


Lyrium Hawke

by LycanDark



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Male Tabris/Zevran, Multi, Unrequited Anders/Hawke, anders/male tabris - Freeform, brief anders/karl, they're friends and fuck buddies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LycanDark/pseuds/LycanDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris is a Templar and Hawke is taken to the Circle AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ferelden Circle (Part the First)

**Author's Note:**

> Blame my Pro-Loghain Cousland playthrough where I heard the Templar Gideon Emery voiced after having played DA2.
> 
> (Also, outside the Chantry in Lothering, the Templar there is voiced by Garrett's VA, so someone else should write a double Templar AU.)

"Hawke, no." Ser Fenris shakes his head and pushes Hawke further back behind the bookshelf obscuring the mage’s bed from easy view.

"He called you a knife-ear and all but accused you of-" Hawke's growl is cut off by Fenris's mouth pressing against his, a swift action that ends practically the second they touch.

"But I am. An elf and… that." He reaches out and strokes the back of a book, slight flush to his cheeks. Hawke smiles at him and shakes his head.

"It's the principle of the thing. And the second one could get you in trouble if it got around."

Fenris shrugs and glances at him. "No one believes him. It's fairly common knowledge what my stance on mages is."

"Point taken. Still, I want to punch him right in his smug face." Hawke sighs and leans against the shelf behind him.

"And that is what I like about you, Hawke."

"My bloodthirsty lust for revenge?"

Fenris rolls his eyes and pokes him in the chest. "Your first instinct isn't to resort to magic."

"Unless it's healing paper cuts."

"Unless it's healing injuries." Fenris leans against the shelf perpendicular to Hawke’s. "Which is the only magic I like."

"Oh, I don't know. You seemed awfully fond of that heating spell last night when I-"

"Hawke." The Templar hisses and looks around for any passers-by.

"Sorry." Hawke doesn't look sorry at all as he steps forward to lay a hand on Fenris's shoulder. "So, if punching him isn't on the agenda for today, how about a reading lesson? I have some research to do for Irving in the main library, which means I have time if you do."

"That would be nice, Hawke." Fenris smiles.

\----

It hadn't been easy for Fenris to join the Order, but he had fought his way in, worked as hard as he could for the protection it offered from both his former master and from the effects of magic. Experiencing firsthand what power-hungry mages could do, what all mages could do if left unchecked, Fenris relished the idea of being able to render them powerless. The only downside was that it meant he would be with mages constantly, guarding the Circle.

He was willing to deal with it. Mages couldn’t hurt him there without facing consequences. He could personally deliver those consequences. And, Danarius would never look for him there, not without risking himself in the process.

Knight-Commander Greagoir was reasonable enough to allow an elf to join their ranks, though he was leery of one with lyrium carved into his flesh joining an order of lyrium addicts.

“If the others try to get at it… Well, you’ll just have to do your best, won’t you?”

Fenris just smiled. “I’ve endured worse than anyone here could come up with.”

And that was that. He was put through the same tests and trials, defeating each physical challenge like his life depended on it.

The problem was the mental challenge. Not enduring the scorn of the third sons of nobles, or even the harassment of low-born humans he outmatched, that didn’t bother him – he’d had worse. Memorizing the Chant was as easy as listening to the Chanter until he heard the whole thing three times over. No, it was learning to read his orders. He just couldn’t do it, and the Chantry sisters that taught those lessons only served to frustrate him further with their condescension.

“Can elves even learn to read?” One actually had the gall to remark in his presence.

He stormed out after that.

It was all that kept him from being able to take his vows.

\----

Hawke smiles at Fenris from where he’s stretched out on the floor outside the door to the Templar quarters. His staff is propped up against the wall behind him, and he’s got a book in one hand.

“Good morning, Ser Lovely.” He gives a mock salute with his other.

“Are you drunk already?”

“Nah. Sweeney just never signed my requisition forms, and I’m in no hurry to do anything Irving has planned.” Hawke sits up as Fenris sits down. “And since there are Harrowings today, I figure if I don’t mention anything, I can just not do anything until lunchtime at least.”

“And yet you told me.”

“If we both keep our heads down, I’m sure we won’t be missed until dinner.” Hawke says, waggling his eyebrows. Fenris rolls his eyes and shoves him. Hawke laughs. “What? Do you _not_ want to take a tour of the basement? What about breaking in to the Knight-Commander’s office? I heard he’s got better wine than the kitchens.”

“You’ll get me in trouble.”

“We can always catch Anders before he runs away.” Hawke places his hand on Fenris’s. “I heard he was thinking of using one of the windows in the children’s dorms this time.”

“There aren’t even windows...” Fenris groans quietly. “He’ll get _you_ in trouble.”

“I doubt it. If I ran, I wouldn’t get caught.” Hawke yawns and hops up, tugging Fenris with him. “But we should go catch him before he gets one of the children injured making holes in the tower. Any of them might run, too, if they miss their mothers.”

He lets go of Fenris’s hand and picks his staff back up. Fenris watches Hawke, keeping his hands firmly at his sides. “Do you still miss your mother?”

“Every day. We were close, my family. I imagine they still are.” Hawke looks pointedly away from Fenris and shakes his head. Fenris lets his fingers brush Hawke’s.

“Let’s go stop Anders.”

\----

It wasn’t kicking and screaming that Hawke was brought in, no. He was entirely silent for quite possibly the first time in his life. He’d known his father wouldn’t raise a hand to save him once the Templars had actually caught him, wouldn’t risk Bethany being discovered. He’d known that, really, just as he knew he was an adult now at 20 and that a 14-year-old girl should probably not be near Templars. And Carver would need Father’s guidance now more than ever. That didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. He hadn’t even been able to tell Mother he loved her before leaving.

The mages that greeted him promised that he’d feel better once he settled in. He doubted it, but what choice did he have, really? It wasn’t like he could leave.

The bed assigned to him was comfortable at least.

\----

“So, then I told Wynne… Fenris, are you all right?” Hawke pauses with his hand halfway to the _Encyclopédie de la magie et l'enchantement_ when he notices the elf seems tense.

“They’re sending mages to Ostagar.” Fenris spits. “Your name was on the list.”

“Oh, that.”

“You didn’t tell me.” Fenris growls, glaring at Hawke and dropping the books he was holding for him. “I had to find out from Drass mocking me about it.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a choice. I’ve got more combat training than the other Enchanters here.” Hawke tries to defend, but sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “And unlike them, I know how to use a sword, so I didn’t exactly… I mean it wasn’t my first choice.”

“Really? You don’t see this as your big chance to run home?”

“I’m not quite finished being _held captive_ , Fenris.”

Fenris flushes at that. “Oh, really?”

“They need Templars to escort us.” Hawke adds. “Wouldn’t be too hard to weasel a favor out of Irving, if you wanted a change of scenery. Then again, we’ll probably all wind up dead, and you don’t want that…”

“No, I don’t.” Fenris tangles his fingers in Hawke’s robes before forcing him back against the shelves and kissing him properly. Hawke casts an ice wall behind him to keep them hidden from prying eyes, even though it’s lunchtime and only Sweeny is in this section of the library.

\----

Hawke appreciated the vast array of books in Circle more than anything. There were just so many, and if he focused on reading them he didn’t have to think about Mother or Father or Carver or Bethany. He didn’t have to think about the girls he liked or the boys he loved that he’d never see again. He didn’t have to think about how big and wide his world was before coming here.

He buried his face in the books and tried to forget.

\----

The trip down to Ostagar is more wonderful than Hawke imagined. The wide open spaces and the noisy villages they pass through have him elated and practically prancing as the ten other members of his party merely march across the land. Fenris doesn’t manage to hide his smile from Hawke, though it’s small and the others don’t notice. But Hawke can see it, and that adds an extra layer of delight.

“Hawke, we are heading to war. People may die.” Wynne scolds, and Hawke laughs in response.

“It’s just been so long since I’ve been outside.”

“True. Ever since that junior enchanter tried to escape by swimming…” She concedes.

“I was impressed. Anders doesn’t even know how to swim.”

Fenris snorts, coughing to cover it up.

\----

Fenris spent a great deal of his spare time in the Circle chapel, praying. He didn’t really believe in any of it – the Maker, if he existed, was utterly useless to him so far – but it was quiet and if he _looked_ like he was praying no one bothered him. Until the bearded mage knelt next to him one day after a particularly annoying reading lesson, that is. The man looked like he’d been crying, and he was muttering to himself. It wasn’t the Chant, unless “Maker, please don’t let them ever find _her_.” was added while he wasn’t looking. Fenris scooted a bit further away from him and tried to ignore him.

The bearded mage fell silent after a time, which made Fenris relax until he looked over at the man again to find him properly crying. It was awkward, and awkward was something entirely new to Fenris. Danarius hadn’t allowed him time enough to consider anything beyond Danarius’s whims. Fenris fidgeted. The bearded mage noticed and rubbed his eyes before he sighed.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I’ll… go.” He said. Fenris shook his head.

“You, uh, you weren’t. You don’t have to.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

The two sat in silence for a while, until Fenris couldn’t stand it.

“Why are you crying?”

“I miss my family.”

“Oh.”

It was silent for a while once more.

“Weren’t you brought here young? They told me mages are brought here young.”

“We get our powers young. I was an apostate until two months ago.”

“Oh.”

There was another pause, and this time it was the bearded mage that broke it.

“So, if you didn’t know that… have you taken your vows yet?”

“No, I still have yet to pass some of my tests.”

“Oh.”

“Have you taken your Harrowing yet?”

“No, they want me to be adjusted to the Circle first.”

“Oh.”

“Why haven’t you passed your tests?”

“I don’t know how to read.”

“Oh. At all?”

“No.”

“Weren’t you raised in the Chantry?”

“Do you see anyone else with lyrium branded into their skin?”

“Point. Have any of the other Templars tried to drink you?”

“I’d kill them if they tried.”

“Good. I was worried.”

“And if you tried, I would kill you as well.”

“I wouldn’t try.” The bearded mage looked Fenris up in down with an expression Fenris wasn’t quite familiar with, but made him feel warm nonetheless. “First date, anyway.”

Fenris let out a surprised, nervous laugh, cheeks flushed a light pink, before coughing into his fist. “Well, um, I’ll keep that in mind.”

The bearded mage smiled at him and stuck out his hand. “I’m Hawke, by the way.”

“Fenris.” Fenris took it.

\----

Nightfall on the trip is better than the daytime, Fenris believes. He manages to have a tent on the far end of their little camp every time, and it’s the one time of day Hawke manages to be quiet enough that they get to curl up together for a few moments without anyone getting suspicious.

Hawke is right, though. He does love that heating spell. It’s even better when Hawke gets to curl up around him with it instead of just heating his smallclothes for him.

\----

Hawke watched Fenris during mealtimes, noticing that he always sat away from the other Templars. He also watched him when he sat in the main library, listening in on the children’s lessons. Fenris was usually looking back, so Hawke didn’t feel bad about his fixation.

At least, not until junior enchanter Anders noticed.

Anders was a couple years older than Hawke, and he was handsome enough that Hawke figured they might have had a fling if they were anywhere else and Hawke was looking. The earring was a bit of a turn-on, at any rate.

“Trust me, Hawke, you do not want to go down that road with a Templar, especially _that_ Templar.”

“Why the ‘especially’?”

“He’s bad news for mages. That’s why Greagoir let him come here already even though he hasn’t taken his vows.”

“He’s not bad for mages. He’s just not good at reading and Greagoir didn’t see the point in wasting his skill. Besides, he’s from Tevinter. Makes sense he’d be wary of us.”

“Then why bother to join at all?”

“Because he gets to meet me.”

“And _you’re_ such a joy, Mr. Glarey-Face?” Anders teased, nudging Hawke with his shoulder.

“I’m delightful.” Hawke smirked. “Look, I don’t know. I’ve only really spoken to him the once.”

“Just remember that if you’re caught, him getting reassigned or you getting moved is the _best_ outcome.”

“Would we get caught?” Hawke quirked a brow.

“I would never tell. But you both should really stop being so obvious.”

“We’re not… We’ve spoken _once._ I think you’re projecting.”

“But am I wrong?”

Hawke glanced at the other end of the library, eyes focusing on white hair. “Maybe not on my end.”

\----

Hawke hammers the last stake in the ground while Fenris inspects his handiwork. “You’re a little crooked here, Hawke.”

“Oh well. It’s my tent.”

“If it falls on you in the middle of the night, don’t try to weasel your way into mine.”

“I’ll just weasel my way into Wynne’s, then.” Hawke rests his mallet on his shoulder and grins at him. “She’ll be nice and let me in.”

“Oh no, Hawke. I think you’d learn more sleeping outside.” Wynne gives a slight chuckle, overseeing the Tranquil setting up hers.

“You know you want me.”

“Be careful about who you flirt with, young man.” Wynne crosses her arms and tsks at him. “You couldn’t keep up with me.”

Hawke plops down on the ground and beams up at her. “Oh? Is that a challenge I hear?”

Fenris rolls his eyes and double-checks the ropes are secure. “Bear in mind that my tent is right there.”

“Will do, Ser.”

\----

Fenris stormed out of the classroom after the children’s reading lesson that he lost track of, _again._ He scowled when he saw all the mages staring at him as he headed for the stairs to go back up to the Templar dorm, and they all looked away quickly, save for that Hawke fellow, who broke off a conversation with some blond mage to follow him.

“What do you want, Hawke?”

“What’s got you so angry, handsome?”

Fenris rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Hawke, no.”

“Come on, you can tell me. Maybe I can help.”

“No, you can’t.”

“But how do you know?” Hawke looked so damn eager to please that Fenris couldn’t bring himself to do anything but groan.

“I told you I can’t read.”

“Yeah.”

“I _still_ can’t read.”

“I can help with that. I taught my brother and sister.” Hawke pointed at a desk in the back corner of the library. Fenris bit the inside of his cheek.

“No one else has been able to make a difference so far.”

“If I fail, I’ll streak naked through the entire tower… save the children’s quarters.”

Fenris let out a startled laugh. “I, uh, I better learn quickly then.”

Hawke gave an ‘after you’ motion towards the table, and Fenris went.

\----

It’s dark and Hawke groans and flips around trying to get comfortable in his tent. Fenris told him no to a quick cuddle – too many people around, too easy to get caught. Hawke understands that, of course. He doesn’t want to deal with the consequences, either, but he’s spoiled from the trip down here and can’t sleep without seeing Fenris sleeping first.

The flopping he can hear from the tent next to his tells him Fenris is having the same problem. After another ten minutes, the flap to his tent is pulled back and Fenris is standing there in leather armor rather than his full Templar regalia.

“Hawke, I can’t sleep.” He says, voice barely loud enough to be heard. “Can we go train somewhere?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I was sleeping _so_ well.” Hawke sits up and tugs his nightshirt over his head. “Just let me get dressed, Fen.”

“I… will wait outside.” Fenris doesn’t move, eyes looking Hawke over appreciatively. Hawke tugs on his old apostate robes, brought along because he prefers pants when battling. He waggles his eyebrows at Fenris.

“Like what you see?”

“Perhaps.” Fenris says, and he jerks his head back at the entrance. “After you.”

\----

“And then Bethany said ‘I didn’t think Mother even knew we had a cat.’” Hawke finished, and Fenris just shakes his head with a smile.

“Your family sounds as ridiculous as you are.”

“If you think that’s bad, I should tell you the story of how my parents got together sometime.” Hawke leans forward, chin resting on the back of his hand. “There was swooping and disowning and _somebody_ just had to go and get someone else pregnant with me.”

“Hmm, tempting. Maybe after you explain what this word is?” Fenris pushed the book he was looking at across the table and pointed at it.

“Ah, that word is necroman… what book is this?” Hawke picked it up and read the spine before growling out, “How did a Common translation of the _Historiaque Magia Sanguinis_ get in here? It’s basically a blood magic cookbook with historical notes.”

Fenris stood up. “What?”

“Which shelf did you get this from?” Hawke demanded, and when Fenris pointed, he stormed over, skimming the shelf and yanking out book after book. “Blood magic, how to guide on summoning demons, spirit binding guaranteed to bring demons, blood magic, blood magic, extra dangerous blood magic, and, _oh Andraste’s flaming ass,_ this one right here has spells guaranteed to level a town of the caster’s choosing.”

Fenris stared at Hawke as the mage kept dropping book after book off the shelf. “What should we do about them?”

“My father drilled all the important things about magic into my head, and what he _always_ hammered home is that my magic is to serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base. And the kind of blood magic these books here teach? _The very most base._ ” Hawke summoned fire to his hand and glared down at the pile. “And incredibly dangerous. We need to get rid of them.”

Fenris had never agreed with a mage as much as he did in that moment.

When Knight-Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving called them into their respective offices for setting fires in the grand library, neither could bring themselves to feel bad about it.

\----

“It’s pretty here.” Hawke says, dodging Fenris’s strike (with Hawke’s spare stave instead of his sword) and looking around the bit of the Korcari Wilds closest to camp. “Really romantic.”

“Hm.” Fenris strikes again, this time making contact. “Maybe you should pay less attention to the trees.”

“Ow.” Hawke rubs his shoulder before raising his stave and getting into a better stance. “One more time. I wasn’t ready.”

Fenris shakes his head fondly and holds up his weapon. Hawke strikes first this time, and Fenris dodges with an almost effortless grace before striking back. Hawke blocks, letting out a grunt and pushing into it to try to knock Fenris down. They fight almost in a dance, both treating it like a fight to the death, pushing each other further and further, daring the other to improve, losing focus on everything but the other, and –

“Hey! Stop that! We’re not supposed to be fighting e–”

Fenris’s foot gets caught in tree root and Hawke slips upon losing his focus. They land with a squish and a grunt.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” The guy that interrupted them says, running over to help them up. Hawke takes his hand before actually looking at him. “Brother?”

“Carver?”

\----

The little elf girl was sobbing and holding her arm. Fenris looked around for help while keeping a firm grip on the little human boy’s robes, but it was late at night and the library was empty.

“Are you hurt?”

“He burned me.” The little girl sniffled into Fenris’s armor. Fenris pet her shoulder with his free hand and just hoped Hawke would show up soon for their reading lesson. It was only a moment later that he saw him coming, two books and a stack of paper in his arms.

“Hawke!”

The mage dropped his things on a table before jogging over to them. “Hey, what’s…” He broke off and dropped down to be level with the little girl’s face. “Hey there, cutie, what’s your name?”

“S-Senna…”

“Nice to meet you, Senna. I’m Hawke.” Hawke held his hand out, and he smiled at her in a way that even put Fenris at ease. “Can I see your arm?”

The girl started to take her hand from her burn, but whimpered and shook her head. Hawke nodded. “Okay, look up at my buddy, Ser Fenris, for a minute, okay? He’s a nice man, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“I think he has pretty eyes, don’t you?” As Hawke spoke, he gently guided Senna’s hand off her burn. Fenris quirked a brow, but said nothing about his topic of choice.

“Mmm-hmm…”

“They’re green like yours. It’s one of my favorite colors. What’s yours?” Hawke’s hand glowed as he healed the burn up.

“My mommy has blue eyes.”

“Really? Mine, too. And my brother’s.” Hawke looked the girl in the eyes with a serious expression on his face. “I bet your mommy’s really pretty.”

“Really pretty. But the Templars said I can’t see her anymore.” Senna’s eyes tear up again. “I miss her.”

“I know.” Hawke looked her over. “My mommy used to kiss my hurts better. Did yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I kiss your burn better?”

Senna nodded, rubbing her eye with the back of her good hand. Hawke leaned in and pressed a kiss to her arm before pulling back. “See, all better now.”

Senna smiled, and Hawke hugged her close. The little boy shifted in Fenris’s grip.

“I’m sorry, Senna! I didn’t mean to!”

Senna nodded. “It’s okay now, Shipley!”

Hawke gestured for Fenris to bring Shipley right in front of him, and he looked both children in the eyes. “Never, and I mean _never,_ cast any offensive magic in the direction of another person, unless they attacked you first. And even then, you need to be careful. Magic is wonderful, but like a lot of wonderful things it is dangerous.”

“Yes, ser.” The kids promised, and Hawke laughed and pat each one of their heads.

“Now, it’s past your bedtime.” Hawke waved his hand towards the door. The children scurried off, and Hawke stood. “Sorry I was late. I couldn’t decide which book would be better to work from.”

They sat down at the table, and Fenris stared at Hawke while the mage flipped through the first book. “You are… good with children.”

“The twins are six years younger than I am.”

“You were an apostate until a few months ago. Did you ever burn someone?”

“My father, but he’s… a more experienced me. And he was literally telling me to cast a fire spell at him. My… The…” Hawke looked around to make sure they were alone before lowering his voice. “If we’re having the ‘accidental mishaps of magic’ conversation, it’s my…” Hawke groaned and stared back at Fenris. “I trust you.”

Fenris blinked and looked away, taken aback by that. “Why?”

“I honestly have no idea. You could take what I tell you and…” Hawke cut himself off and rubbed his eyes. “But I know you _won’t_.”

They sat in silence while Fenris thought that over. He thought of Hawke noticing he was upset, offering him reading lessons. He thought of Hawke tracing the letters over the back of his hand and quizzing him until he knew each one by heart, never mocking his slow progress. He thought of Hawke nodding at him as they passed each other heading to different parts of the tower. He thought of Hawke crying in the Chantry when they met, of what he was asking the Maker for.

“Your sister is a mage, isn’t she?”

Hawke swallowed and nodded. Fenris thought of Hawke burning those dangerous books.

“Your father is the one teaching her?”

Again, Hawke nodded. Fenris looked at Hawke’s hands, at how they fidgeted and twitched. He thought of how firm Hawke was that offensive, dangerous magic should not be directed at people, and didn’t think for a second that Hawke would hesitate to extend that to slaves, and briefly wondered why that was.

Hawke sat there in silence, eyes lowered, and waited for a response. Fenris realized the power he held over Hawke in this moment, and he didn’t enjoy it.

He didn’t enjoy it one bit.

“Hawke, if it’s your father teaching her, I can’t see how it would be better to have her, specifically, in the Circle. He seems like a better teacher than the senior enchanters, if you’re anything to go on.” Fenris said, and Hawke raised his gaze back to Fenris’s face.

“You’re sure?”

“I trust you, too. If she were dangerous, you would tell me so.”

“Of course. I _do_ understand why the Circles exist.”

“So, she burned…?” Fenris prompted, wanting to get past this moment.

“Ah, she burned Carver _accidently_ after he nailed her braid to the bed while she was sleeping. She only wanted to scare him, but ended up setting his shirt on fire.” Hawke shook his head. “They both started screaming. I was the only one home with them, so I got in trouble for not paying better attention to them.”

“Did you heal him?” Fenris asked.

“Of course. Father was proud at how good a job I did. We started teaching Bethany after that. She begged us to.” Hawke smiled at the memory. “They both learned from it, though. She didn’t use magic in the same room as Carver for a long time and never at a person again, and Carver never nailed her braid after that.”

\----

Hawke surreptitiously tickles Fenris’s foot as he heals his ankle, and Fenris rolls his eyes and laughs at him. “Stop it, Hawke. Just heal me.”

“Why were you fighting?” Carver asks, sitting across from them now. Hawke shakes his head.

 

“We were practicing for tomorrow night so the evil darkspawn don’t kill us.” He finishes up on Fenris, but doesn’t let go of his foot.

“Why didn’t you two use your magic then?”

Fenris quirks a brow, somewhat amused at being mistaken for a mage of all things. Hawke snorts. “That would be difficult since Fenris is a Templar.”

“But…” Carver’s brows furrow. “But you seem so… comfortable together.”

“Well, he’s the light of my life.” Hawke winks at his brother, and Fenris looks around out of habit. Carver tilts his head, frown on his face.

“That’s dangerous.”

“I live for danger.”

“Of course you do. Even the Circle is fun for you.” Carver grumbles.

“So, Carver, how did you get Father to let you join the army?”

Carver opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything for a while. “Brother, I… You don’t know.”

Hawke tenses. “Know what?”

“Father’s dead.”

\----

Fenris swallowed down his nerves before walking over to Hawke, who was losing a game of chess with Anders. “Hawke, you need to come with me.”

Hawke immediately stood up. “Yes, ser.”

Anders groaned. “Just like that? You’re in the middle of something important.”

“What can I say? I come on command.” Hawke quipped, following Fenris and leaving Anders laughing. Fenris didn’t say anything even as they arrived at the door to the basement, leaving Hawke concerned. “Are you going to murder me? Cause I swear putting the cinnamon in your morning coffee was supposed to make you happy. It was also Anders’ idea. Unless you liked that, in which case it was mine.”

“What? No. I mean, I did, and I knew it was you, but…”

“Oh. Good.” Hawke shifted on his feet. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I did. Thank you.” Fenris looked away.

“So, why are we here?”

“Let’s go in here. I need to talk to you.”

“Okay.” Hawke went in and down the stairs. Fenris hesitated before following, closing the door behind him. The two stood in awkward silence for a while. “So…”

“Just a moment.” Fenris started to pace back and forth in the dark. “I hate mages. I hate them. I have seen what they can do, _experienced_ what they can do, first hand. I only came here because I never wish to be on the receiving end of that _again,_ and Templar abilities let me _avoid that._ Not for altruistic purposes or even to better myself. I just didn’t want to look over my shoulder in fear anymore. Because I _hate_ mages, and I _hate_ what they can do.”

Hawke’s face fell further with every word. “Yeah, if you just brought me here to tell me you hate me, you could have done that outside.”

“No, that’s not… You just need to understand – I _hate_ mages. I hate magic. I hate all of it.”

“I think you’ve made your point.” Hawke headed towards the door. Fenris groaned.

“Let me speak, Hawke.”

“Because you’re doing _such_ a great job so far.”

Fenris stormed up behind Hawke and grabbed his arm, slamming him up against the stone wall the next second, tattoos glowing and almost blinding in the dimly-lit room. Hawke inhaled sharply and blinked. Fenris stopped glowing and backed away.

“I… Hawke, I…”

Hawke reached out and pulled him back in, kissing him. Fenris pushed Hawke back against the wall, more gently this time.

“Just, not you, Hawke. What I was trying to say…”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“Oh. Good.” Fenris pressed in close to Hawke. “Good.”

“So, please don’t hesitate to shove me up against things when no one’s looking.” Hawke grinned. Fenris groaned and kissed him. “Now, that’s the first time I’ve seen those tattoos of yours glow. Does the lyrium react to your mood? Or is it stress levels? Or-?”

Fenris shook his head. “It’s voluntary and involuntary, and do you really want to waste time on something we can do upstairs?”

“Point.” Hawke licked his lips and leaned in, ready to devote some serious time to getting better acquainted with every bit of Fenris allowed, when Anders ran in and the two sprang apart.

“Ah, shit.” Anders jumped behind Hawke and slid down the wall. “I’m not here.”

Hawke turned, kicking his leg out so Anders was hidden behind his robes as a Templar stormed in, their helmet on so Fenris wasn’t sure who.

“Where is he?” It was a woman’s voice, so Fenris guessed Rylock.

“He who?” Fenris quirked a brow.

“Anders.” Rylock looked back and forth. Fenris shook his head.

“I haven’t seen him. He must have run into the dorms.”

Rylock turned to go, but stopped and looked back at Fenris. “What are you doing with the robe?”

Fenris stared her down, and Hawke gave a nonchalant shrug.

“We were discussing his reading performance. It felt weird discussing it where others could hear.”

Rylock nodded and hurried out, letting the door slam behind her. Anders stayed still until he was sure she was gone. “Oh, thank the Maker, I thought she was going to kill me.”

“Thank Hawke.” Fenris crossed his arms.

“What did you do this time?” Hawke held his hand out. “I’ve only been gone ten minutes.”

Anders laughed and fiddled with his earring. “I kind of… stole a fire rod from the storage room on impulse since Owain was distracted, talking to, uh, someone. I thought I could use it to cause a distraction when I… well, you know.”

“Anders…” Hawke snickered. “She will kill you. You know that, right? She takes your escapes personally.”

“Give it to me.” Fenris held out his hand, and Anders, pouting, obeyed. “You tell Irving to have the Tranquil recount the inventory if anything comes of this. It’s a _clerical error_ , understand?”

Fenris left with a look at Hawke and a roll of his eyes. Anders smirked at Hawke.

“You know what? I think I was wrong. You go and get _real_ close with that Templar, Hawke.”


	2. Ferelden Circle (Part the Second)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing on...

Hawke doesn’t react for a long time, so Fenris decides to ask the questions for him.

“When did he die?”

“Just a few months after Garrett was taken. He felt so guilty that it killed him.” Carver crosses his arms. “We should have known Brother was _enjoying himself_.”

Fenris glares at him and places his hand on Hawke’s shoulder. “Are your mother and Bethany doing well?”

“They’re fine.”

“Good.” Fenris stands and pulls Hawke to his feet. “It’s time we all got some rest. Tomorrow shall not be pleasant.”

He steers Hawke back into camp and to their tents. Hawke doesn’t speak until they’re there. “Can I stay with you? I… I don’t know if I… I would be easy prey for a demon right now.”

His voice is so soft and fragile, teetering on the edge of breaking, and it hurts worse than anything Fenris has endured.

“I would be failing my duties twice over to leave your side.” Fenris says, and he guides Hawke into his tent. He undresses Hawke and then himself, and they curl up together, Fenris wrapping himself around Hawke, Hawke’s back to his chest. Fenris’s chin presses into Hawke’s shoulder.

\----

Hawke’s Harrowing took place a week after Fenris finally took his vows. When Hawke went under, Fenris stood with his sword already drawn, prepared to kill if Hawke failed. He didn’t expect Hawke to fail, of course. Having his sword ready just made him feel less worried about the possibility of failure.

It took Hawke too long to finish. Fenris was quivering with nerves by the time Hawke opened his eyes, laughing at nothing.

“Congratulations, Hawke.” First Enchanter Irving said, Knight-Commander Greagoir echoing a second later. Fenris held on to his congratulations until he was walking Hawke back to the dorms.

“What took you so long?” He whispered.

“Oh, it was a… It was a desire demon. The visions were so nice, it seemed a waste to say no right off.” Hawke winked at him, and Fenris shoved him hard at the wall.

“You are an ass.”

“It wasn’t sex, Fenris. It was showing me other stuff. Better stuff. Important stuff.” Hawke laughed and slid down the wall. Fenris sat next to him. “It was you, me, my family. We were in Lothering. You slept in my room, and my parents adored you. Carver was just so happy to have a big brother that was more like him than me.”

Fenris didn’t know what to say, so he just placed his hand on Hawke’s.

“And Bethany teased us whenever we looked at each other.”

“It sounds nice, Hawke.”

“So, I let myself be selfish for a moment. I’m sorry.” Hawke glanced up and down the halls before kissing Fenris’s cheek.

“I wish it could be so. I would like to know your family.” Fenris said, leaning against Hawke. “Congratulations, by the way. I knew you would not fail.”

\----

Fenris strokes Hawke’s hair, ignoring the sounds outside their tent that tell him he needs to get up soon. Hawke lays there listlessly, eyes unfocused.

“I do not know what to say to help you, Hawke.” Fenris murmurs, voice low and aiming for soothing. “But I am here as long as you need me.”

“We can’t stay as long as I’d need to feel… I didn’t get to say good-bye to my mother before I left, and now I didn’t get to say good-bye to my father. And, I’ll never get to… He was supposed to be teaching Bethany how to be a good mage and showing Carver how to be a good man.” Hawke says into Fenris’s neck, and Fenris rubs Hawke’s back. “I should be there. Mother doesn’t know a damn thing about how to manage a household. She barely knew how to cook when I left – I was making our dinners when Father was tired from farming all day.”

Fenris nods along as Hawke speaks, hands never stopping their movements. “Why is that?”

“My mother was an Amell, a noble from the Free Marches, specifically Kirkwall. She was meant to marry some DuLancet and have servants to do everything for her. Right from the get-go I had to learn housework along with her, but she only ever got good at dealing with money and playing with the Twins. Arranging playdates and helping father get better deals on seeds whenever he wanted to expand, that sort of thing. I imagine Bethany took up the cooking and Carver the cleaning without Father and I.”

“Or maybe without you and your Father there to make it easy for her, your mother figured it out.” Fenris says, and he bites his lip. “I mean, she can’t be a fool with a son like you.”

Hawke gives a mirthless laugh. “I hope so. Bethany and Carver don’t need that on their plates.”

Fenris pulls Hawke tighter against him. “What was it your father did, before he met your mother? Was he always a farmer?”

“No, not at all. I don’t know all the sordid details, but he knew how to fight – he taught Carver and me swordplay. He taught me _everything_ – from magic to how to talk myself out of trouble to… just everything.” Hawke sucks lightly on Fenris’s neck, not to mark and not to arouse, but to soothe himself. “I think he might have been a smuggler at some point. He certainly had the skills for it. Then again, I never had a question that he didn’t have an answer to.”

Fenris pulls the blanket up higher on Hawke as he listens. Hawke stops talking when the blanket comes over his shoulders, before he sighs again.

“I just miss them all, and I’ll never see him again, and Carver hates me. He should hate me. I’m the fool that got in a fight with a bear and got caught, and now Father is dead.”

“Hawke…” Fenris shifts, curling up tighter. “Hawke, you can’t blame yourself for his death. This wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have been there.”

\----

Hawke squeezed Anders against his chest and tugged gently on his ponytail. “Don’t worry so much, Fenris and I will be back before you know it.”

“Just… please don’t run off and leave me alone here for good, Hawke.” Anders whispered and pressed closer. “I don’t know if I can… Solitary was… terrible is an understatement, and Fenris slipping your notes and bringing Mr. Wiggums was…”

“Shh, I know, Anders. Just be good and do as the Templars say, okay? Just a couple weeks and we’ll be home. As long as you just keep your head down, they won’t lock you up again. Irving promised me he’d keep an eye on you personally. Make you work on all those boring projects with him since he won’t have me to do them.” Hawke tried to soothe, reaching out on his nightstand for a comb. “Okay? And you can even sleep in my room until I get back, if you want to.”

Anders let out a shaky breath and rubbed his eyes as he sat back. “You are a really good friend, Hawke. Thank you.”

“And you are a colossal idiot.” Hawke chuckled as they shifted around so Hawke could undo Anders’ hair tie and start combing his hair for him. “But you’re also my friend, which makes _me_ a colossal idiot, too, and Fenris one as well because he loves me.”

“Just three foolish peas in a pod, then.” Anders leans back against Hawke as the man combs his hair. “I mean it, though, Hawke. I… Thank you.”

“Are you sleeping with me tonight, Anders?”

“May I?”

“Any time, buddy.”

\----

Hawke looks at Fenris as they await the king’s signal. Fenris reaches over and takes Hawke’s hand for a moment before readying his sword. Hawke takes that as his cue to focus on the horde appearing at the far end of the field.

“Archers!” The king shouts as the horde rushes forward. Hawke shifts into a firmer stance and takes a deep breath.

“Fenris, just in case we don’t make it through this, you should know…”

“Hounds!” The king gives the second command. Fenris exhales slowly.

“Yes, Hawke. Me, too.”

“For Ferelden!” The king yells, and everyone rushes to meet the darkspawn army.

\----

Anders slept with his face buried in Hawke’s pillow. Fenris was sitting on Hawke’s desk, glaring at him with his arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“Hawke.”

“Yes, Fen?”

“Why is he here?”

“Slept here last night. He thinks we’re going to die.” Hawke hummed as he slipped a grimoire in his pack. “And he’s scared of Rylock without big, strong you around to protect him.”

“Hm.” Fenris stood and opened up Hawke’s trunk, yanking out various robes and things and shoving them in Hawke’s pack to hurry him along. Hawke stepped back and watched, bemused smile on his face.

“Jealous?”

“No.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you. Anders _is_ quite the maiden, isn’t he? For your big, strong Templar arms.”

Fenris sputtered. “Wh-what are you babbling about? I don’t… You’re the one taking him to bed.”

Hawke let out a bark of laughter, and Anders sleepily shifted on his bed. Hawke clapped a hand over his mouth to quiet his laugh until the blond settled back to sleep. Hawke crossed the room and cupped Fenris’s cheek. “Like I’d let Bethany and Carver sleep with me, not like I’d take you to bed if we had that luxury.”

Fenris looked away, a bit bashful at the gaze Hawke had fixed on him. “I… I know that.”

“So long as you do.” Hawke pressed his lips to Fenris’s temple.

“We really need to finish packing your things. Because we’re leaving. Soon.” Fenris shifted on his feet. Hawke pulled away and stepped back.

“I think I just need my staves.” Hawke said, reaching over Anders to grab them from between his bed and the wall. “I’m leaving my copy of _Ferelden: Folklore and History_ with Anders, so if you were planning on reading that one on our trip, sorry.”

“I’m stuck on a passage in the _History of the Chantry,_ anyway.” Fenris fastened the ties on Hawke’s pack. “Do you think we’ll have time for you to go over it with me?”

“Of course we will.” Hawke grinned. “You and me, round the campfire, under the stars, reading religious texts? If it weren’t for the other Templars and mages, it might be considered-“

Hawke cut off with a small “oof” as Fenris elbowed his stomach.

“Enough, Hawke.” He smiled, though, and Hawke returned it.

\----

Fenris is the first to notice that something has gone horribly, dreadfully wrong. He’s the first to spot Loghain’s army retreating at the lighting of the signal. He’s the one to slice open a Hurlock flanking Hawke and grab Hawke’s arm. He’s the one to point it out to Hawke that Ostagar is already lost, to point out King Cailan’s body on the ground.

Hawke is the one to lead Fenris through the battlefield. They together are the ones to clear a path, to save as many of their fellow soldiers as they can spot as they run around screaming for Carver. Hawke is the one that finds him surrounded by Genlocks. Fenris is the one to cut them down. Hawke is the one to knock Carver out when he protests, and the one to carry him as Fenris slices through every enemy they find as they flee back towards the camp, to relative safety so they can move on. Fenris is the one to grab their packs, to snag extra lyrium from the main tent, while Hawke heals up his unconscious brother. They together run out of Ostagar, whispered half-plans to get to Lothering, to beat the Horde there, the only words passing between them for the rest of the night as they never stop running.

\----

“Well, this is definitely not how I intended for you to meet my mother.” Hawke says to Fenris, standing back from his old house.

“Like he was ever going to meet Mother.” Carver grumbles as he storms past them to go inside. Both Hawke and Fenris roll their eyes before smiling at each other.

“Well, we’ve survived so far. That’s something, at least.” Fenris hikes up his pack to get a better grip, and Hawke takes his hand. “And everyone will assume we’ve died, which is another. Maybe our luck will hold and your mother will like me.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion she’ll like you more than she likes me.” Hawke winks at him. They head to the door only for it to fling open, and an older woman runs out, wrapping her arms around Hawke, whose free arm comes around her on instinct, pack swinging against her legs. “Mother.”

“Oh, my sweet boy, you’re back. You saved Carver. Oh, your father would be so proud.”

Hawke buries his face in her hair. “Mother, I’m home. And, I have someone here you need to meet. In a second.”

He squeezes her tightly before pulling back just enough to kiss her cheek. Then he gestures with his head at Fenris, who’s watching them with something akin to fascination. Leandra looks at him before looking back at Hawke.

“A Templar?”

“ _My_ Templar. Mother, this is Fenris, the best thing about living at the Circle. Fenris, this is my mother, Leandra Hawke.”

Fenris nods at her. “It’s nice to meet you, finally. Hawke has spoken very highly of you.”

Leandra smiles at him, but fixes Hawke with a worried stare. “Hawke, your sister…”

“I know about Bethany.” Fenris hurries to reassure. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“We need to leave. Now, if not sooner.” Hawke says, voice firm. Leandra swallows.

“But…”

“The king is dead and the horde will be following us sooner rather than later.” Fenris insists, and Hawke nods his agreement.

“You and Bethany and Carver need to grab what you can carry and no more. We need to get as far from here as we can.” Hawke says, and he steps back from his mother. “Hurry.”

Leandra hesitates a moment before she bites her lip and sighs. “I understand.”

She hurries inside, Hawke and Fenris on her heels. Bethany and Carver are by the door, knapsacks already on and ready to go as Leandra rushes by to gather her things. Bethany lights up at the sight of her brother before she registers Fenris and takes a step back. Carver wraps his arm around her shoulder.

“It’s alright. Fenris is Brother’s… _friend._ ”

“Bethany, this is Fenris. Fenris, Bethany.” Hawke laughs. “And Carver, ‘friend’ is not a dirty word.”

“Brother is sleeping with him.” Carver deadpans.

“Only literally and only the past two weeks.” Fenris replies, unfazed, as he heads to the kitchen and starts packing up what food wouldn’t spoil.

“But we’ve been kissing and everything for a long while now.” Hawke says in a singsong voice as he follows to help.

“Hawke.”

“Yes, dear?”

“Enough.”

“Never.”

Fenris smiles to himself as he wraps a chunk of cheese and finds space in his pack for it. “I’m sure your brother and sister don’t wish to hear about us.”

Bethany giggles quietly. “No, no, tell us how this happened.”

“Oh, well, it’s nothing as fanciful as our parents, that’s for sure. He made me stop crying and I taught him to read.” Hawke shrugs and helps Fenris fit a few jars of blackberry and elfroot jam in his own pack.

“We also stole about three bottles of Greagoir’s imported wine collection and burned the Circle’s entire section on blood magic.” Fenris supplies with a smirk as they get both packs tied back up.

“So, that’s how I’ve been the past four years. How about you?” Hawke shoulders his bag and looks at his sister.

“After Father died… Oh, I… you didn’t know that…” Bethany covers her mouth with both hands and looks apologetically at Hawke. Carver shakes his head.

“I told him.”

“Right, um, I mostly practiced what I already knew.” Bethany relaxes a bit. “Maybe when we’re safe, you could…”

“That’s what big brothers are for.” Hawke grins and tugs her in for a hug. Carver crosses his arms and goes to check on how his mother was coming along.

“Carver’s worried we’re not going to get out of here before the darkspawn come.” Bethany whispers.

Hawke kisses her hair. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I’m here now, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

\----

“You won’t have him.” The redheaded woman shouts as she cuts down the darkspawn attacking the Templar she’s with. Hawke and Fenris rush forward to help, Carver on their tail and Bethany guarding Leandra. The redhead helps the Templar stand. “They won’t have you.”

Between the four actively fighting, clearing the area doesn’t take long at all, and soon enough everyone is panting and clustering together.

“Fenris?” The new Templar asks, surprise coating his voice. Fenris stares at him a moment before recognizing him as Wesley, a Templar who was reassigned not that long after Fenris took his vows.

“Wesley.”

“I know he’s from the Circle, but she’s an apostate.” Wesley gestures at Bethany’s robes to show his point. They weren’t the standard garb given by the Circle, so it was an easy enough conclusion to make. Hawke and Carver both step in front of their sister and fix Wesley with a dual glare cold enough to make Wesley step back a half-step. “Fenris, the Order dictates–”

“The Order dictates I take them back to a Circle. It doesn’t specify Kinloch, and they do not deserve to be condemned to death, which with Ostagar and Lothering fallen…” Fenris gestures vaguely around them. “I’m taking them to Kirkwall.”

“Oh… I see. Good.” Wesley looks at the redheaded woman, who smiles at him.

“I am Aveline Vallen. I see you know my husband, Wesley.” She says. Hawke beams at her.

“Templars, am I right?” He winks at her, and Wesley straightens up.

“That’s not-!”

“Our most pressing issue, is it?” Fenris points behind them as more darkspawn approach, and the group hurries on. Fenris fixes Hawke with a look as they run. “You know, I’m very tempted to trip you.”

“You won’t, though.”

“Probably.”

\----

“Maker, give me strength.” Bethany prays before she fires off a spell at the ogre going for Leandra. The beast growls and grabs her, squeezing tight.

“No!” Hawke shouts. The beast smashes Bethany into the ground. Once, then twice, before it drops her.

“Bethany!”

Hawke fires ice at the ogre, drawing its attention as Fenris strikes from behind. Carver and Aveline focus on the increasing number of smaller darkspawn coming towards them while Wesley takes up the task of guarding Leandra, who clings to Bethany’s lifeless body.

Fenris and Hawke kill the ogre at the same time Carver and Aveline have made enough of a dent in the darkspawn that they can rest for a moment.

“Bethany, Bethany, wake up. The battle’s over. We’re safe. Bethany.” Leandra cries over the body of her little girl, and Hawke’s heart breaks.

“I’m sorry, mistress.” Aveline puts her hand on Leandra’s shoulder. “She’s gone.”

“No, no!” Leandra covers her face, weeping into her hands. Carver clenches his fists, scowl on his face. Hawke grabs Fenris’s hand, and Fenris yanks him forward to hold him. Wesley stares at Fenris a moment before stepping forward.

“Let me commend your daughter’s body to the Maker.” He offers, and Leandra nods. “Ashes we were, and ashes we become. Maker, please take this young girl to your side.”

Leandra kisses Bethany’s forehead and murmurs, “I shall never forget you.”

Hawke inhales roughly and says, “Maybe we should grieve after we get somewhere safe.”

“Don’t speak to me of grief! This is _your_ fault. What were you thinking, letting her charge off like that?” Leandra yells, Hawke stiffens, and Fenris glares at her, though she doesn’t notice. “You were supposed to protect her.”

“We need to keep moving, Mother. Bethany wouldn’t want her sacrifice to be in vain.” Carver says, extending his hand to help her up.

“At least… Father won’t be alone, now.” Hawke mutters to Fenris, and Fenris takes his hand as they move.

\----

Everything is hopeless. There are too many darkspawn for Hawke and Fenris to take on, even with Aveline and Carver to help them.

“I’m sorry I got you in this mess.” Hawke says, back against Fenris’s as they tried to find an opening.

“I’m not.” Fenris smiles. “If I’m going to die, I want to do so fighting by your side.”

Hawke laughs. “Same here. I just wish it wasn’t going to be in the next five minutes.”

Suddenly, there’s a screeching sound and a dragon lands in Hawke’s field of vision.

“Or thirty seconds.”

Fire rains down upon them, wiping out every last darkspawn as the dragon swoops. Hawke and Fenris press closer together to avoid the flames, and when it’s all through, the dragon transforms into an older woman.

Hawke gives a low, awe-struck whistle. “I want to be a dragon.”

“No. You’re hard enough to deal with as is, I don’t need you breathing fire.” Fenris deadpans.

“That’s the part that you’d find difficult?” Hawke winks at Fenris, who shakes his head fondly. “I could take you flying.”

“That’s the tempting part.”

Hawke snorts as the dragon lady stalks towards them, hips swaying back and forth as she moves.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Her voice is a pleasant one that Hawke decides he likes right away. He glances back at his companions to gauge their response to this lady only to see Aveline helping ease Wesley down, the Templar pale and exhausted. Hawke turns back as the lady speaks again. “Used to be we never got visitors to the Wilds. Now they seem to come in hordes.”

Hawke and Fenris share a look before Hawke asks, “So, where did you learn how to turn into a dragon?”

“Perhaps I _am_ a dragon.” She replies. Hawke grins, and she continues. “If so, count yourself lucky the smell of burning darkspawn does nothing for the appetite.”

She walks towards the still smoldering bodies of the darkspawn, and Hawke’s eyes follow her, scarcely hearing Carver exchange words with this woman.

“You are safe… for the moment. Is that not enough?”

“You could show me that trick of yours. That looks useful.” Hawke smirks at her, and she laughs.

“Oh, you are clever. Tell me, clever boy, how do you intend to outrun the Blight?”

Hawke opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by Carver. “We’re going to the Free Marches, to Kirkwall.”

“So far… Just to flee the darkspawn.”

“Where would you recommend? I hear the Deep Roads are vacant.” Hawke quips, and the lady laughs again.

“Oh, _you_ I like.” The lady turns away again. “Hurtled into the chaos you fight, and the world will shake before you.”

Hawke quirks a brow.

“Is it fate or chance? I can never decide.” The lady muses before turning to Hawke, who bites his lip as he watches. “It appears fortune smiles on us both today. I may be able to help you.”

“Hawke, be careful. There must be a catch.” Fenris clamps a hand on Hawke’s shoulder.

“Of course there’s a catch. Life is a catch. I suggest you _catch_ it while you can.” The lady laughs yet again as she answers, and Hawke nods along with her.

“Brother, don’t trust her. We don’t even know what she is.”

“I know what she is – the Witch of the Wilds.” Aveline says from where she’s knelt over Wesley.

“Some call me that. Also, Flemeth, Asha Bellanar… an old hag who talks too much.”

Hawke shakes his head. “Who would dare?”

“You’d be surprised.” Flemeth mutters. “Does it matter? I offer you this:  I will get your group past the Horde, and, in exchange, you make a small delivery not far out of your way. Would you do this for a Witch of the Wilds?”

“Roast a few more darkspawn, and I’ll do anything you want.” Hawke answers, and Fenris’s grip tightens on his shoulder, making Hawke blink and look back at him. Fenris develops a sudden fascination with his feet.

“Sadly, my charity is at an end. There is a clan of Dalish elves outside the city of Kirkwall. Deliver this to their keeper, Marethari. Do what she asks with it, and any debt between us is paid in full.” Flemeth hands the amulet to Hawke, who slips it into an inner pocket of his robes. “Now, there is another matter.”

Wesley coughs.

\----

At Gwaren, Hawke and Fenris pool the money Fenris had brought with the money Hawke had been allotted for the trip and decide to sell off Hawke’s circle-issue robes and Fenris’s Templar armor, and they buy passage for the five remaining members of the group. The ship is incredibly crowded, and Fenris, now clad in his leather armor, curls up in Hawke’s lap to conserve space and reduce unnecessary touches from strangers. Hawke’s big, strong arms wrap around him to help shield him further from any touches that were unavoidable as the ship rocks.

“Hawke?”

“Mmm?”

“You seemed… awfully fond of Flemeth.”

“She saved our lives, and she can turn into a _dragon_ , Fenris. Why wouldn’t I like her?”

“No, I mean… Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Hawke frowns and pulls the elf just a bit closer. “Oh, you meant… I’ll admit to being _intrigued_ but when someone makes an entrance like that, I’d think that’s normal, right? And I flirt with everyone. You know that.”

“But you don’t stare at _everyone_ like that. You stare at _me_ like that.”

“I stare at impossible things like that. She turned into a literal dragon. You exist. It’s all impossible and baffling.”

Fenris presses a kiss to Hawke’s neck to hide the way his cheeks warm at that.

“A _dragon,_ Fenris.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Anders would under…” Hawke breaks off and groans. “Shit.”

Fenris pulls back to look at him, before his eyes widen in realization. “Oh.”

“I… I can’t believe I…”

“There was nothing you could do. You saved your brother and mother and Aveline. They would be dead if we’d returned to the Circle.” Fenris presses their foreheads together and speaks firmly. Hawke closes his eyes and tries to believe it.


	3. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they arrive to Kirkwall and Fenris and Hawke have a chat.

“Look, Hawke.” Fenris points through the skylight of the ship at the large statues built into the cliff face as the ship sails into the Kirkwall harbor two weeks after leaving Gwaren. Hawke strokes Fenris’s hip with his thumb to let him know he’s looking. “Those statues were built by the Tevinter Imperium to intimidate the slaves brought here to be sold. They helped break their spirits faster.”

“Creepy.” Hawke frowns as he looks at them. “They look like they’re in a lot of pain.”

“Mental and physical. Slaves don’t get any respite from being slaves. Their masters control everything – their pleasure, their pain, their lives, and their deaths.” Fenris’s voice is so firm, nearly furious, that Hawke feels compelled to hold him closer. “Slaves of magisters, especially so. They cut their slaves open, kill them, to fuel their magic.”

“Did you see a lot of that? In Tevinter?” Hawke peppers kisses behind Fenris’s ear.

“More than I care to say.” Fenris presses back against Hawke, who presses a final kiss to the tip of his delicate ear.

“That place is so… barbaric.”

“They would say the same about Ferelden.”

“Yeah, but we’re barbaric in the sense that we’ve got furry men and women and share our beds with Mabari hounds and occasionally hunt in the Hinterlands. Not the human sacrifice and slave trade kind of barbarism that needs to be destroyed.”

Fenris lays his head back against Hawke’s shoulder. “I agree. I enjoy Ferelden barbarism.”

Hawke closes his eyes and waits for the ship to dock.

—–

Hawke and Fenris lead Aveline, Carver, and Leandra to the entrance to the Gallows.

“They aren’t letting anyone in, look.” Aveline points at the crowd ahead, and the voices coming from the group confirm the situation.

“What? But they can’t do that.” Leandra’s brows furrow as she tries to process this new obstacle.

“I’m just surprised they let us dock.” Hawke says, earning a quiet laugh from Fenris. Leandra glares at him.

“We have to find Gamlen. Our family has always been respected in Kirkwall. He can do something, I’m sure.”

“The guards seem to be reporting to that man. Let’s speak to him.” Aveline suggests, and the five work their way through the crowd to the front, Carver keeping a protective arm around Leandra.

“Ey, bullying your way through isn’t going to get you into Kirkwall any quicker.” The guard scowls at them as they approach.

“But you do intend to let us in?” Aveline tries to clarify. The guard snorts.

“If it were up to me, you’d be on a ship back to Ferelden immediately, but Knight-Commander Meredith thinks some of you might have legitimate business in the city. So here we are.”

Fenris quirks a brow. “Why is a Templar making such decisions for the city?”

“The Viscount doesn’t want to cross her.” The guard shrugs. Fenris and Hawke share a look.

“We have family in the city. Doesn’t that count for anything?” Carver asks, letting go of Leandra and stepping forward.

“Heard that before. Look, go speak to Captain Ewald. If your claim is legitimate, he’s the one that can help you.” The guard jerks his head back behind him. Hawke grins.

“Ah, and here I thought Free Marchers were never helpful. Thank you, ser!” He winks as he and his family head on to look for this Captain Ewald.

“You know, Carver, I never asked…” Aveline starts as they head down a hallway. “How  _did_ you escape Lothering?”

“My brother. He dragged me out of Ostagar, and then… If he hadn’t been with there, I don’t think we’d be here.” Carver sighs and glances quickly at Hawke, but otherwise ignoring him. Hawke keeps his smile to himself.

“But you seem really skilled yourself.”

“I’m not my brother. Bastard managed to get himself sent to the Circle and returned just in time to still save us.”

“Hey now, our parents were married by the time I was born.” Hawke hums pleasantly as they reach another crowd. Fenris takes Hawke’s hand without looking at him.

“Hey, we’ve been waiting for four days! You’ve got to let us through, you flaming blighter!” One man says, getting up in the face of the guard Hawke assumes is Captain Ewald.

“There’s no room for more refugees. We’ll put you on a ship back to Ferelden eventually, but until then you just have to wait. I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do.” Ewald tries to placate the men, but he’s clearly exhausted. Hawke spares a moment to feel bad for him before he adds to the man’s problems.

“The guard out front said you’re letting in merchants and others who have legitimate business in the city. We’ve got family here – Gamlen Amell. Find him, and you might have a few less refugees to worry about.”

“Gamlen? I know that name.” Ewald muses.

“He’s a nobleman. Our family has an estate.” Carver says, trying to be helpful and jog the man’s memory.

“A nobleman? Only Gamlen I know is a weasel who can’t rub two coppers together.” The guard looks at Carver with a bit of pity for the young man, and Hawke knows they’ve got him. “Look, if I see him, I’ll tell him, but I can’t promise…”

Ewald trails off as the men around them grow angry.

“You’re letting  _them_ in? They just got here!”

“Come on, boys, we’re fighting our way through!”

“Yeah!”

The crowd that had been there before them starts to attack the guards. Hawke rubs the bridge of his nose before unhooking his stave from its harness. He swings it around and hits the back of the nearest troublemaker with the blade at the end. Behind him, Fenris and Aveline have already started defending the guards while Carver shields Leandra from harm, slicing at any men that get too close to his mother.

“What exactly are they expecting? To get through and then get arrested as they do?” Hawke grumbles when the battle brings him closer to Fenris.

“The desperate aren’t exactly known for their rationality. Duck.”

Hawke does as he’s told just in time for an arrow to whiz right through where his head had been two seconds prior. It penetrates the neck of a man Fenris knocked into its path, and Hawke laughs.

“Do they teach that kind of badassary in Templar school?” Hawke asks as he stands back up.

“No. I learned… back in Tevinter.” Fenris dashes past Hawke to dispatch the archer in two clean strokes. Soon enough, the battle is finished and Captain Ewald puts his hand on Hawke’s shoulder.

“Thank you for that. I can’t get you in, though I’d like to. What I can do is actually find your uncle and bring him here.”

“Thank you.”

—–

“I was hoping to grease some palms, but the Knight-Commander’s been cracking down. We’re gonna need more grease.” Gamlen tells the group. Hawke shrugs.

“So, how are we going to get that? We didn’t exactly bring much with us that didn’t go to buying our way here.”

“I have a couple of contacts that are willing to help for a price. Garrett and Carver will have to work off the debt… for a year.”

“A year?” Leandra covers her mouth. “That’s your solution? Selling my children into indentured servitude?”

“Probably the elf, too.” Gamlen adds. Fenris stares down at his feet and runs a hand through his hair before he covers his eyes with it. Hawke puts a hand on Fenris’s shoulder.

“What exactly did you tell these contacts of yours?”

“Athenril, she’s a smuggler, only knows that the three of you are hard workers. Meeran, he’s a mercenary with the Red Iron, is willing to pay extra since Garrett’s… you know.”

Fenris exhales. “And the terms of our arrangement?”

“You just have to do work for them for a year. Half your pay goes to repay them, but you’ll still get some.”

Fenris looks at Hawke, who shrugs.

“Eh, what’s a year? It’ll be done and over before we know it.” He laughs, pulling Fenris closer before whispering into one ear. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll… answer you later.”

Hawke doesn’t move away as turns to Carver. “So… Smuggling or killing people?”

“If you put it that way… smuggling.” Carver looks over at their mother as he answers. Hawke grins.

“Good idea.”

Aveline fidgets a bit. “What about me? I won’t allow others to incur debts on my behalf.”

“Can’t see that it matters. You look like a woman who can pull her own weight.” Gamlen quirks a brow.

“Then you’ll come with us.” Leandra insists. Aveline looks down a moment before nodding.

“I… have no real option. Thank you.”

“Come on, we’ll get this settled quickly. I’m hungry.” Hawke laughs, and he holds Fenris’s hand as they go looking for Athenril. Fenris squeezes it gratefully, eyeing Hawke.

They find her in a secluded corner. She’s a pretty elf, with brown hair pulled back in a messy bun, and Hawke can’t help but admire her armor. “Are you Athenril?”

“You must be Gamlen’s nephew.” She looks him up and down before smirking. “Interesting. I don’t know what he told you about us, but he certainly told us a great deal about  _you._ ”

“How much, exactly?” Carver asks, shooting Hawke a worried look.

“Enough to pique our interest, provided you can justify your uncle’s confidence.”

Hawke smirks back. “Oh, I’m sure my uncle has lower expectations than I have ability.”

Fenris nudges up past Hawke to look Athenril in the eyes, though he still keeps a respectful distance. “Explain to me what our duties will be.”

“Whatever I need from you at the time.” Athenril steps a bit closer to him before she shrugs. “Look, I can be honest. We don’t compete with the thieves’ guild, but we keep our fingers in a lot of pots. That said, we’re not killers or slavers. Anything short of that, however, is fair game. So, as I said, whatever I need from you at the time. One year from now, your contract will be over and your debt repaid. Understand?”

Fenris relaxes as she explains, and he nods. “That sounds reasonable.”

Behind him, Aveline grumbles, “Sounds fishy to me.”

“Begging and taking your pick never went hand in hand.” Carver hisses back.

“But, you’ll have to prove you’re worth our investment. We are, after all, not just getting you in, but keeping the Templars from noticing you while you’re with use.” Athenril lets out a soft laugh. Fenris and Carver both tense, but Hawke just chuckles.

“Oh, so, Gamlen told you about me?”

“And your runaway Templar. Don’t think they’ll be happy about  _him_ either.”

Hawke stops laughing and his expression gets hard. “Tell me what you need done.”

Athenril gestures for Hawke to come closer, and he does, getting mere inches from her face. “There’s a merchant named Cavril. He’s a friend of the Templars, so they let him set up shop here in the Gallows. We supplied him in return for a piece of the take, but now he won’t set up and he’ll scream for the guard if any of us get close. Go get our money for us, and you’re in.”

Hawke nods and storms off immediately. Carver looks at Fenris.

“I don’t think he likes you being threatened.”

“I think your brother is a fool.”

Aveline rolls her eyes at both of them and follows Hawke to find him laughing with the man she assumes is Cavril.

“I understand, Serrah. You’re just doing honest work,  _overcharging refugees_ , and  _ripping them off_.” Hawke emphasizes as she gets close enough to hear them. He glances at her. “Aveline, did you know this man exploits the helpless on top of not paying his debts?”

“What? Oh, I see, you’re from Athenril. Tell that bitch I’m going straight to the guards about this.” Cavril gestures and an armored man, a bodyguard, shifts.

“Aveline, want to step in here?”

“Fine, but only because this toad deserves it.” Aveline steps right up to Cavril and pulls her dagger on him, stopping just at his throat. With all the frustration of every minute after Ostagar evident in her voice, she says, “You have a choice: Pay, or I beat it out of you and your men.”

Cavril swallows before speaking quickly. “Just… take what’s in the chest. Take it all! I don’t even  _want_ to deal with wet dog land junk!”

He steps back from Aveline, and he and his guard hurry off. Hawke beams.

“See? I knew that would work out.”

“Sure you did.” Aveline leans back against the shop counter. “Don’t have me do that sort of thing often.”

“Promise.” Hawke kneels down and opens the chest, taking the coins inside. “Hey, maybe you could work as someone’s bodyguard in the city, yeah? I know I’d sure piss myself if I got in a fight with you.”

Aveline laughs. “No, most of the people that need something like that are the type of people I’d punch.”

“Maybe you should guard the city, then. Odd of there being  _someone_ you don’t hate protecting is decidedly higher.” Hawke stands and makes an ‘after you’ gesture. They head back to Athenril, Carver, and Fenris. “Got it.”

“Tell your uncle we’ll make the arrangements. Welcome aboard.”

—–

Gamlen’s house is filthy, but Fenris has slept in worse places than the bottom bunk of the three-tier bunk bed that he’ll be sharing with Hawke, Carver, and, for the moment, Aveline. Aveline has the top bunk, and Carver is in the middle, leaving him and Hawke crouched down on a thin mattress that’s pretty much on the floor with one ratty blanket to share. Fenris’s back is against the wall and Hawke’s holding his hand and smiling at him.

To be honest, it’s heaven, especially with Hawke using that warming spell and the sounds of the others snoring above them.

The only detriment to how nice this moment is is that Hawke is expecting the answers Fenris promised earlier, and Fenris isn’t sure how to explain without wrecking the first night of relative privacy where they didn’t have to fear being discovered.

“Are you  _certain_ you wouldn’t rather do anything else?”

“There are a whole host of things I’d like to do, but my brother is right above us.” Hawke waggles his brows, and Fenris shakes his head.

“Sleeping, or perhaps a kiss. I don’t… It’s simply… It’s not a big thing. Not much to say, actually.”

Hawke frowns at him and shifts closer. “See, it’s the avoidance that makes me think it is.”

“Hawke.” Fenris groans and shifts a bit closer himself. “I just have to say first that the reason I did not say anything before was not that I did not trust you. I do. I just… did not want Greagoir or the others to know, and by the time I felt you trustworthy enough… you already assumed I was just an abused and disillusioned soporati, just a second-class citizen of the Imperium. I am not ashamed of it. I just didn’t want things to be awkward. More so than we already are.”

Hawke’s free hand starts stroking Fenris’s hair, and the elf’s ears twitch a bit in response.

“I’m not going to like where this is going, am I?”

“Probably not.” Fenris bites his lip. “In Tevinter, I was slave to magister by the name Danarius. It was he who gave me my markings. Indentured servitude felt a bit too close, but Athenril seems like a decent enough employer.”

Hawke just stares at him a moment before nodding and whispering, “I see.”

“It doesn’t change anything, Hawke.”

“No, it does change a few things. I am filled with questions about how ‘soporati’ are actually treated, for one, and for another I want to apologize for-”

“Don’t.” Fenris’s voice is very firm, and Hawke shuts up immediately at hearing it. “Hawke, I don’t need you second-guessing anything. You’ve been plenty understanding when I’ve needed that, and the trust you have shown me, even when I…”

“Even when you?”

“That ‘glowing thing’ lets me rip into a man’s chest and tear his heart out. Or any organ, really. It’s not… heart specific.” Fenris tells Hawke’s shoulder. Hawke smiles.

“That just makes it  _extra_ sexy.” He insists, and Fenris looks him in the eyes before they both snicker.

“You’ve just been… good to me, for me… What we have is good.” Fenris says after a while.

“Is it… alright if I ask questions about all that?”

“Some other time. Our journey here was a long one.” Fenris tugs Hawke a bit more on top of him and lets out a pleased sound at how much warmer that was.

“Next time we run for our lives, let’s go someplace where we won’t be rooming with Carver.”

“How about we just move when we can afford it? I have no desire to deal with darkspawn again for a long time.”


	4. Act 1 (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Varric and stuff.

Just as Hawke predicted, the year passes quickly. A few months in, Aveline gets a job at with the city guard and moves into the Barracks in the Viscount’s Keep, which Hawke is very happy about. Leandra moves out of Gamlen’s room into Aveline’s old bunk, which Hawke is less happy about. It is difficult but doable to get a little frisky with a friend and one’s brother sleeping in the same room. It is _impossible_ with one’s mother taking residence in the same room, even if by some form of luck she and said brother are both out of the house at the same time.

“Look, we’ve finished working for Athenril. Maybe now we can save up and find our own place to live. Move to Darktown, perhaps. Neither of us is picky about where we lay our head.” Fenris says on one such evening. He’s seated at the desk in the family’s bedroom, staring up at Hawke, who’s sitting _on_ said desk.

“Maybe you’re right.” Hawke closes his eyes and leans back against the wall. “And neither one of us would be very conspicuous in Dark Town. We could go mostly unnoticed so long as we’re careful.”

“Of course I’m right.” Fenris puts a hand on Hawke’s knee. “Or we could join that dwarf’s… Bartrand Tethras’s expedition. They’re heading into the Deep Roads. The take is supposed to be immense.”

Hawke grins, opening one eye to look at Fenris. “Maybe we could get Mother’s old home back for her.”

“Or at least have enough resources to not worry about being discovered.”

“That, too.”

\-----

“I said no.” Bartrand growls, already walking away from Hawke and Carver.

“But we’ve faced darkspawn before. You need us!” Carver gestures to emphasize his point. “We’re the best you can possibly get.”

“I’m not changing my mind.”

Carver turns his frustrated glare to his brother. “You talk to him. It’s _your_ Templar who suggested this to make us harder for your Templars to get you.”

Hawke rolls his eyes, but smiles fondly. “My brother has a point. It’s on his head, but…”

“I already have plenty of people signed on who can fight, and I’m not wasting any more coin on leeches that only want my money.” Bartrand looks each brother in the eyes with an expression that manages to be intimidating even on a man less than half either brother’s size before he storms off. This time the brothers do not follow.

“Well, what do we do now?” Carver scowls at Hawke, who shrugs.

“Why do you care? It’s _my_ Templars we’re worried about. Remember?”

Carver flushes and looks away in shame. “Did I really sound that bad? Maker, I’m almost as bad as Gamlen.”

“Nah, you smell better than Gamlen.” Hawke teases, and punches his brother’s shoulder. “We’ll find something else, don’t worry. I’m not giving up until I can properly play house with Fenris.”

“He washes your smallclothes. How much more house can you get?” Carver quirks a brow before his face reddens further. “Oh, you mean… ew, Brother.”

“What? No, not… well, yes, but not what I was going for, Carver.” Hawke laughs as he bumps into a man who hurries off. “I just meant that I can have…”

He cuts off as he feels his pockets and turns around in time to see a dwarf fire a crossbow into the shoulder of the man he’d bumped.

“You know, I knew a man once who could rob you blind just by smiling at you. _You’re_ not skilled enough to work Hightown, let alone the Merchants Guild.” The dwarf takes Hawke’s purse from the man before yanking out his bolt. Hawke stares at him, torn between amazement and caution. The dwarf gives off the feel that that’s a common sentiment as he swaggers up to Hawke and tosses his purse back. “How do you do? Varric Tethras, at your service.”

“Garrett Hawke, this is my brother Carver, and pretty well, usually.” Hawke winks as he slides his purse into an inside pocket of his vest this time. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Varric scans Hawke over from head to toe, and Hawke gets the impression he’s just undergone the most scrutinous evaluation he never had to actually participate in. “I apologize for Bartrand. He wouldn’t know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw.”

“And you would?” Carver scoffs.

“I _would._ ” Varric gestures at Hawke. “And _your_ brother here is one.” He directs his speech to Hawke. “See, what _my_ brother doesn’t realize is we need someone like you, and if he did, he’d never admit it. He’s too proud. I, however, am quite practical.”

“Your brother said you have enough bodyguards.” Hawke quirks a brow. Varric shakes his head.

“No, we _don’t_ need another hireling. What we need is a partner. Bartrand’s tearing his hair out trying to fund this expedition. Get 50 sovereigns together, and he’ll have to let you join.”

“I sure hope you have a plan, Varric, because I do not have that kind of money.” Hawke starts walking, half-stride so Varric can easily keep up.

“Of course I do. There’s plenty of odd jobs in Kirkwall. Save up, and you’ll have it in no time at all. I’ll even help you, just because I like you already, Hawke.” Varric keeps step with Hawke, Carver left following them confused.

“Good. No sense going into business with someone you hate.” Hawke heads out of the Merchants Guild courtyard and into Hightown. “So, gather coin and? I assume there’s a step 2.”

“There’s always a step 2. But let’s talk in the Hanged Man. I could use a drink.”

“Mind if we detour to my place first? I make no business decisions without my partner, and if we’re doing this, you should meet him.”

“Can this partner of yours play Diamondback?”

“Not very well. Or amazingly. Depends on how you look at it. But the game to play is Wicked Grace. He’ll lose every time even if you let him know he’s got a good hand.” Hawke hums, adoration blatant in his tone. Varric chuckles.

“Oh, this _partner_ ’s got you good, hunh?”

“He is my sun and moon.”

\-----

Hawke knocks twice, then once, then three times. Fenris opens the door with an amused look on his face.

“Hello, Ser Lovely.”

“Welcome home, Hawke.” Fenris leans up and Hawke leans in, but they do not kiss, just looking in each other’s eyes.

Varric leans up against the wall next to them. “Aw, that’s adorable.”

Rolling his eyes, Carver crosses his arms. “Don’t encourage them – they’re like this _all the time._ ”

Fenris tenses and steps back, before looking down at Hawke’s boots to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. “I… didn’t know you had company. I’ll go ma-”

“No, Fenris, we came to get you. This is Varric Tethras, Bartrand’s brother. We’re getting a game plan together to get in on the expedition, and I can’t make these kinds of decisions without you.” Hawke takes Fenris’s hand, and Fenris looks back up. “We’re going to have a drink at the Hanged Man, and their stew is definitely probably some kind of edible slop. Sound good?”

Fenris chuckles. “You make it sound so tempting.”

“We can split one of their beef sandwiches. I heard it may or may not have actual beef in it.”

“It’ll beat whatever that was Carver made last night.”

Carver scowls. “I’d like to see you do better instead of Brother always taking your turns.”

“You’re just jealous I have leverage enough to make him.”

\-----

In the Hanged Man, the four sit at the table in front of the fireplace – well, Fenris, Carver, and Hawke sit while Varric paces.

“So, here’s the thing, we need to find a way into the Deep Roads. Bartrand can lead us to the right place once we’re down there, but we need a good entrance.”

Hawke swallows his mouthful of stew and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Wouldn’t _any_ entrance be a good one? Unless there’s a dragon sitting in it, I suppose. Oh, but if it’s a friendly dragon, it would be a _great_ entrance.”

Fenris hands Hawke a napkin and shakes his head. “There’s no such thing, Hawke.”

“We need an entrance that’s close to our destination that isn’t already plundered or already filled back up with darkspawn. Fortunately, I know just how we’ll find that entrance.”

“How convenient.” Fenris says, before delving in to his beef sandwich. Varric clutches his chest in feigned hurt.

“You wound me, elf.” He smirks up at them. “There’s a Grey Warden in the city. If _anyone_ knows how to get into the Deep Roads, that’s our man.”

“So we just need to track him down, gather 50 sovereigns, and we’re in.” Hawke rests his chin on Fenris’s shoulder. “Think we can do that?”

“If anyone can do that in the short time we have, it’s you, Hawke.” Fenris nods. “Where do we look for this Warden?”

“Supposedly, he came in with a bunch of Ferelden refugees. There’s a woman in Lowtown not far from your place who’s been helping Ferelden refugees by the name of Lirene. We talk to her, maybe we learn where he is.” Varric takes his seat across from Hawke. He sips his beer. “And I’ll keep after my contacts – see if I can drum up any work to help with step 2.”

“Maker, but you are brilliant.” Hawke raises his glass.

\-----

“I hear you can help me find a Ferelden Grey Warden.”

“Only Ferelden Grey Warden I’ve heard of is sitting on the throne.” Lirene frowns at Hawke before looking confused. “We’re out of the Blight’s path now. Why would you need a Warden?”

“The healer was one of them once, wasn’t he? A Warden?” a young girl standing next in line for aid asks. Lirene sighs and fixes her with a look.

“He’s not now, and busy enough without answering fool questions about it.”

“Then I’ll only ask smart ones.” Hawke smirks at her.

“I do not joke, serrah.” Lirene sounds like she’s restraining herself from strangling him, and Fenris coughs into his fist to keep from laughing at her plight. “You see what our people face in Kirkwall – no jobs, no homes, not even enough money to buy bread. This healer…”

She sighs. “He serves them without thought for coin. He’s closed their wounds, delivered their children. He’s a good man. I won’t lose him to the blighted Templars.”

“No one’s that selfless.” Hawke says. “He’s probably got bodies hidden in his basement.”

“He’s certainly grim enough. I’ve never seen a man carry more sorrows, but he’s only done good for the Fereldens here.” Lirene looks away a moment.

“You don’t have to worry about me turning him over to the Templars, serrah.” Hawke holds out his hand and conjures a small flame. Lirene relaxes, and Hawke puts it out. “Maybe I’ll give him a hand sometime. I’m not half bad at healing, if I do say so myself.”

“It’s true. He’s very good.” Fenris pipes up from behind him. Lirene smiles ever so slightly.

“I suppose you can seek him out. Go to Darktown and look for the lit lantern. If you have need enough, Anders will be within.”

Hawke freezes at the name before sprinting outside. Lirene, Varric, and Carver all look at Fenris, and it’s Varric who asks, “Does Hawke know Anders, or…?”

Fenris pinches the bridge of his nose.

\-----

Hawke runs through the crowd of worried Fereldens intent on protecting Anders, casting a harmless paralysis spell that both dissipates the second he’s away from them as well as reassure them he’s not going to hurt Anders. Fenris, Carver, and Varric hurry after him, but it isn’t until Hawke hesitates outside the clinic door that they catch up.

“Hawke?”

“What if it’s not him? What if it is? What if-?” Fenris cuts Hawke off with a kiss, and he puts a hand on his shoulder.

“If it’s him, you have nothing to fear, Hawke. He is your friend, and he _will_ understand.”

“I promised him I’d come back.”

“And now, he’s come to you. Unknowingly so, but he has.”

Hawke searches Fenris’s face before pressing their foreheads together. “Fenris, I…”

“I know, Hawke. Me, too.” Fenris pulls back and gestures at the door. “Anyway, we _do_ need his help, so you can’t waffle here forever.”

Hawke takes a deep breath before pushing open the door. Inside is Anders, Hawke’s Anders, healing a young boy, and Hawke holds his hand out to stop the rest of his group from interrupting. He watches the spellcasting and smiles at the improvement to Anders’s technique. It isn’t until a couple minutes after Anders finishes, when he turns away to get a moment’s rest, that Hawke steps forward. Anders grabs his staff.

“I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation!” Anders speaks with a voice more authoritative and powerful than Hawke remembers, and he turns with his hands out to try to stop whatever threat he senses. “Why do… you…” Anders’s eyes grow large, and Hawke smiles at him before moving close enough to hug him tightly. “threaten it? H-Hawke?”

“Anders, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, extremely sorry, never been this sorry in my life sorry. I’m sorry.” Hawke rambles as Anders hands slowly move to finish the hug.

“But… you were killed at Ostagar. Wynne told me so herself.”

“I’m sorry. My brother was there. I had to save him. I had to save my mother and sister, and I fucked up that last part, and Lothering was destroyed, and I’m sorry.” Hawke buries his face in the feather plumes at Anders’s shoulder. Anders shakes his head.

“You’re dead.”

“I should’ve been. Bethany is.” Hawke whispers and this snaps Anders out of his disbelief.

“No, no, no. Hawke, no.” Anders pulls Hawke closer, burying his face in Hawke’s hair. “You’re here. You’re here, and we’re together, and no one’s going to ever find us again. The Commander helped me destroy our phylacteries before… Oh, that doesn’t matter. The point is… Oh, thank the Maker or whoever, Hawke, I missed you and _you’re alive_.”

“And you actually managed to escape the Circle, mage. Good job.” Fenris says, leaning back against the doorframe. Anders looks at him, brows raised in surprise.

“Will wonders ever cease?” He says quietly before turning back to Hawke. “Both of you survived?”

“Of course.” Hawke wipes his eyes. “I promised you we would.”

“Why would you destroy Brother’s phylactery?” Carver asks, walking up closer to Anders to look him up and down but making no move to touch him.

“It didn’t feel right letting the Circle keep even that much of him.” Anders tangles his fingers in the fabric of Hawke’s vest. Fenris notes it, but says nothing.

“Thank you for thinking of me.” Hawke points at Carver. “That’s my brother, Carver, by the way. I’ve told you about him.”

“Ah, yes, you had a crush on a girl named Peaches, and your sister pushed you in a creek once and you cried.”

Carver scowls at Hawke. “Don’t talk about me.”

“Nah. I told him all the cute things Bethany used to do, too, so it’s only fair.” Hawke chuckles before he actually takes the time to examine Anders’s face, noting the pallid, unhealthy complexion and the bags under his eyes. “Are you eating and sleeping enough? I know you’re trying to play medic, but you really need to take care of yourself, too.”

“I’m not _playing_ anything, Hawke. I’m actually running a clinic.”

“Not the point, Anders.”

“I… could probably do better. I was in mourning, after all.” Anders’s tone is a little harsh, but Hawke just laughs.

“Well, not anymore, and you’re coming to our place for dinner. It’s my turn to cook.” Hawke tugs on Anders’s hand, with a grin. “And we can catch up.”

“Um, alright. I suppose.” Anders gives Hawke a small smile. “I’d love to.”

Varric sidles right up to Hawke and coughs pointedly. Hawke chuckles awkwardly. “Oh, yeah, and I could use your help with something, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything.” Anders squeezes Hawke’s hand.

“So, I hear you were with the Wardens for a while…”

Anders tenses and swallows. “Why? Did the Wardens ask you to find me? I’m not ever going back. The bastard that replaced the Commander made me get rid of my cat and he let them bring in a Templar, a bad one.”

“What? No, no, we just need to know if you know a good entrance to the Deep Roads – we’re going to go on an expedition to excavate some ruins, make some money… But, _Maker_ , Anders. Sounds like you’ve had a shit time even out of the Circle.” Hawke shakes his head, and he reaches up to tuck a stray lock of Anders’s hair behind his ear. Anders shakes his head.

“It wasn’t all bad. Rylock was calling for my head when I ran off after the Circle… um, so the Commander conscripted me. He and I played cards in his room every night until we tracked down the phylacteries. Nice man, the Commander.” Anders shifts on his feet a bit and looks between Hawke and Fenris. “I, uh, I just really don’t like the Deep Roads. Do we have to go?”

“ _You_ don’t have to go anywhere. Just tell us where to go, if you know anything.” Fenris says. “This information could save lives, and the money made could give Hawke protection against the Templars.”

“Well, I do have maps…” Anders volunteers. “I could let you have them, but… Hawke… I just got you back. Please don’t go.”

Hawke presses a quick kiss to Anders’s cheek. “You don’t have to worry about me going and getting lost again. My mother is here in Kirkwall. I can’t go anywhere.”

“Don’t worry, Blondie. I won’t let anything happen to your precious buddy pal.” Varric chuckles. “And we’re not going anywhere until we raise some coin, anyway.”

Anders bites his lip before he groans. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you the maps on one condition – Come to the Chantry tonight and help me help… a friend.”

“Do you even have friends aside from Hawke?” Fenris quirks a brow. Anders pouts.

“I have plenty of friends. The Commander, my other Warden friends I don’t talk to anymore… my friends from the Circle… who are dead thanks to Uldred… Um… I have the Commander and Hawke. And Karl. We were… _close_ before the Circle decided to transfer him here. He’s in trouble, and I’m meeting with him tonight.”

Hawke frowns. “How come you never told me about him before?”

“He was moved just before you were brought in. It was too fresh, and then… well, we wrote sometimes, but it was done and you… I didn’t want to bother you about him. So…” Anders steps back from Hawke and reaches up to fiddle with his earring before he remembers it’s not there. Hawke’s brows furrow.

“What happened to your earring?”

“I sold it to pay for ingredients for some tonics when I boarded the ship here. There were a few pregnant refugees, and what food was on the ship wasn’t really suitable for them.” Anders shrugs. “But, uh, forget that. Will you help me, Hawke?”

Hawke scratches his neck. “Oh, I don’t know. I might be busy.”

Anders’s face falls and Hawke laughs. “Of course, I’ll help you, Anders. We’ll all go to my place this evening, have dinner, and then we’ll go help Karl.”

\-----

Hawke pushes Anders up to Leandra. “This is my mother, Leandra. Mother, this is Anders, a dear friend from the Circle. And the dwarf here is Varric, a new friend I made while me and Carver were out.”

Leandra smiles at Anders, holding out her hand. “It’s lovely to meet a friend of my son’s.”

“I-It’s lovely to meet his mother!” Anders stammers, taking it. Fenris rolls his eyes and follows Hawke to the kitchen.

“I know, I know.” Hawke licks his lips as he pulls a couple chickens he’d picked up before returning home out of his pack and starts to clean them. “I didn’t let you have a chance to greet your maiden properly.”

“The _only_ maiden I’m interested in has a proper beard.” Fenris lets out a quiet laugh before he sits at the kitchen table to watch. “I just wish you didn’t encourage him. It’s cruel.”

“Encourage him with what?” Hawke frowns, looking over his shoulder at Fenris, who quirks a brow.

“Have you never noticed the way he looks at you?”

“How… does he look at me?”

“Or how he kept quiet about his past lover?”

“What are you talking about?”

“My, and here I thought you were observant.”

“Fenris?”

“Nothing. Forget I ever said anything.” Fenris smiles and rests his cheek in his hand.

Hawke searches the cabinets for what spices he’d managed to get his hands on. “It’d be like falling in love with Carver anyway. You might do it, but I’d find it weird.”

\-----

Everyone crams around the kitchen table while Hawke serves out their dinner. Anders, Varric, and Fenris at one end, and Carver, Gamlen, and Leandra at the other. After serving everyone else, Hawke squeezes in between Carver and Fenris, the latter of whom moves onto Hawke’s lap to make room. Hawke kisses Fenris’s cheek before picking up his spoon.

“What kind of soup is this, Hawke?” Anders asks between spoonfuls.

“It’s garbage.” Fenris answers for him. Anders scowls at him.

“It’s delicious, Ser Jerkass.”

Hawke starts to laugh and chokes on his mouthful. When he gets under control, he shakes his head. “No, that’s what kind of soup it is. It’s got a lot of lesser-used chicken bits. I salted and preserved the rest for our lunches tomorrow.”

“Oh, terrible name.” Anders flushes and continues eating.

“So, Anders, what happened? After we left the Circle?” Fenris asks.

“Oh, you know, abominations, attempted annulment, and a daring rescue by the Commander.” Anders shrugs. “And Wynne left to join him with Irving’s blessing.”

“Abominations?” Hawke frowns, pushing his soup aside to focus on that.

“Uldred, that creepy senior enchanter, said yes to a pride demon and started torturing everyone in the tower. Mr. Wiggums got possessed and took out four Templars before they struck him down.” Anders gives a mournful sigh. “But the Commander took care of it before the Rite came through, making it really _twice_ that he saved my life.”

“You seem quite fond of him. Tell us about him.” Fenris says, feeling Hawke tense up from what Fenris just knows is needless guilt. “How did you formally meet?”

“I’d run off again. Spent a week in Denerim before heading north, only for Templars to catch me just outside Amaranthine.” Anders giggles to himself, staring down at his hands. “They decided to resupply at Vigil’s Keep, the Grey Warden stronghold, only for darkspawn sent by the Architect to attack and kill them all. I defended myself better than they did, and, when the Commander found me, I was in a rather… _compromising_ position, what with the dead Templars. Mhairi, the ex-guard that had signed up to join the Wardens, she tried to warn him not to let me help, but the Commander… He believed me when I said it wasn’t me, and he just… He gave everyone a chance to prove themselves, whenever he could, and judged them on _that_ instead of what anyone else said.”

Anders gets a bit wistful as he speaks, and he pauses before looking up at Fenris.

“Joining the Wardens is a terrible experience, though. I don’t recommend doing it.”

\-----

A constant throbbing assaulted Anders’s head, and everything was far too hot, so he moaned and tried to kick away the heavy fabric laid over him. A pair of hands immediately held him in place.

“Shh, Anders. I know it sucks, but you need to rest and wait it out.” A low, melodic voice that eased the ache in his head accompanied one of the hands starting to rub his back. “You’ll be fine by morning, I promise.”

“Is hot.”

“Yeah, your body isn’t exactly pleased with the Joining.” That sweet voice again. Anders shifted around, trying to see who it was. “Hey, shh, lay still.”

“Who…”

“Lycan Tabris.” The sounds were soft, and Anders tried to repeat the name to himself.

“Lys… an? Who…”

“The Commander-Warden. Oh, do you remember where you are, Anders?”

The sound of his name in that sweet voice made Anders shiver.

“’M a Warden.”

“I don’t think this was just the Joining. Oh, shit. Were you ill before?”

“Mmmm… Maybe.” Anders crooned into his pillow. The hands on his back paused.

“And I couldn’t tell. Damnit.” The hands guided Anders over to lay on his back. “Been here less than a day, and I’m already screwing… Shit.”

Anders looked up at the Commander, smiling goofily at the worried blue eyes and twitching, pointed ears. He reached a shaking hand up to push back a stray strand of orange-red hair. The Commander rewarded him with a tight smile.

“How long have you been sick?”

“Few days. Was getting better when they caught me.”

“And now the taint’s weakened you. Thank the Maker you’re so strong, Anders. Mhairi didn’t make it.”

“No. I liked her.”

“I did, too. Oghren made it, though, so he and I can handle anything that comes up. You get some sleep.”

“Won’t change your mind later, will you?”

“Never. You’re my man now, Anders. I’ll keep you safe.” The Commander pressed his lips to Anders’s forehead. “Hm, high fever. Stay under the covers. I’ll go make you my father’s special elfroot soup. Guaranteed to get you back on your feet by tomorrow.”

\-----

“And, I mean, I wasn’t the only one that joined the team from a compromising position. There was Nathaniel Howe. He broke in to kill the Commander and steal back his stuff, but changed his mind on the killing bit and got caught. The Commander found it flattering and conscripted him. Apparently, he got with his Antivan sweetheart the same way. Well, sort of. Nathaniel was in the prison. The Antivan left a nasty scar up the Commander’s arm when he tried to kill him.”

“No offense, but your commander sounds like he might not be all there up top.” Varric shakes his head.

“None taken. He’d probably agree.”


	5. Act 1 (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving along. Completing Anders's request and also meeting Isabela.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated!

Anders goes on ahead to the Chantry after dinner while the others prepare for the potential fight.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Fighting Templars is a surefire way of getting them to notice you, Brother, and that would break Mother’s heart.” Carver hisses as Hawke stores his supply of moth-eaten scarves that he’d picked up around town in his trunk and replaces them with tonics and potions he’d bought from the lovely Elegant earlier that week.

“Anders is very dear to me. I won’t just stand by when he needs my help, Carver.”

“And here I thought you just replaced us with your pet elf. Turns out you went and made a whole new family.” Carver growls. Hawke tenses before he stands.

“Yes. Yes, I made two friends in the Circle. If you didn’t know how it works, once you’re taken, you can’t leave without getting Templars tracking you down with almost perfect success thanks to the phylacteries.” Hawke glares at Carver, who takes a step back. “What would running away accomplish but to draw attention to Bethany? Why do you think Father just let them take me in the first place?”

“Brother, I…”

“So yes, I’m close to Anders. He and Fenris were all that really… Anyway, Carver, I’m going to help him. You can just stay home.” Hawke slips his stave in its holster and pushes past Carver to leave, before turning back to glare at him. “And if you _ever_ call Fenris my ‘pet elf’ again, I’m punching you in the face.”

\-----

Wintersend was bittersweet. Anders pet Ser Pounce-a-lot as he watched the Commander drinking Aqua Magnus straight from the bottle as Oghren makes grabby hands for it.

“I wonder if Warden-Commander Tabris will be alright after ingesting that amount of lyrium.”

Anders looked up, despite the smell of decay and formal address making it pretty clear who it was. “Oh, Justice, I’m sure our commander could lick a lyrium vein and be fine.”

“I highly doubt that.” Justice pointed at the elf, who had now fallen over. Anders jumped up to go help him, while Oghren scooped up the bottle.

“He wasn’t that much of a lightweight when Zevran was around!” The dwarf laughed before giving a belch. “Then again, neither of them joined me again after that whole thing in Denerim. Kid’s out of practice.”

“Charming.” Anders slung Tabris’s arm up over his shoulders, and he hiked him up to help him to his room. After leaving the main hall, Anders looked at his drunken commander and asked, “What’s got you drinking like this?”

“Miss him.” Tabris buries his face in Anders’s shoulder. “Mosta the time, ‘s fine. We’re good. But is the firs’ time I don’ have any family for Win… Wintersend, and he’s in Antiva. I’m lonely.”

Anders felt a pang in his own heart, mind drifting to Hawke and Fenris now dead, and to Karl off in Kirkwall. “Think I know what you mean.”

“You lonely, too, Anders?” The elf nuzzled up against Ander’s neck, and Anders laughed, hurrying down the hallway.

“You, ser, are drunk. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Fine…” Tabris let Anders manhandle him into his room. “But you could. Zev wouldn’ mind.”

“It’s not _him_ minding that matters.” Anders started to undo the buckles on the Commander’s armor.

“D’you have someone to mind?”

“I used to. Karl.” Anders sighed dreamily. “He was a little older than me and got brought in waaay after I did, but that was really nice. He showed me all sorts of magic I hadn’t figured out myself.”

“Zev’s older’n me, too.”

“If he were younger, I’d worry.” Anders quipped and tugged off the Commander’s breastplate. “I think I was your age when I met Karl, now that I think about it.”

“Did he tell you dirty jokes to cheer you up after a bad day?”

“No. No, we talked about magic and freedom and how to hide things from Templars.”

“Did you love him?”

“I don’t know. I certainly liked him.” Anders started undoing the elf’s boots. “I like you, too.”

Tabris tugged on Anders’s arm. “Sleep with me.”

Anders shook his head before sighing. “Weeeeelllll, maybe. You won’t regret it?”

“Never.”

\-----

“Oh, good, there you are, Hawke.” Anders smiles as Hawke and their friends get close. “I just saw Karl go inside, and I didn’t see any Templars.”

“They might have gone in earlier…” Carver mumbles under his breath. Hawke fixes him with a look. “I’m just saying.”

Anders bites his lip. “If there are any, you deal with them while Hawke and I get Karl to safety. They can’t make you Tranquil.”

“Nooo, just kill us.”

Fenris quirks a brow. “Why are you even here, Carver?”

“Shut up.” Carver pushes the Chantry door open and heads in. Fenris turns his look on Hawke, who smiles sheepishly.

“We, uh, might have had another fight, and he might be trying to prove me wrong.”

“Some days I am glad I have no family.”

Varric snorts. “Brothers. Junior just needs a hobby Hawke doesn’t have. That’ll do the trick.”

“Good luck with that. Hawke is a man of varied tastes.” Anders laughs, covering his mouth to muffle the sound as everyone follows Carver inside. “When we find Karl, just let me do the talking.”

“Of course.” Hawke looks around, getting distracted a bit by all the red tapered candles and the giant statue of Andraste. “Maker, this Chantry is far bigger than the one in Lothering. I think our Chantry could fit inside here with room left over.”

“This way, Brother.” Carver hisses from halfway up one of the staircases. Hawke stumbles briefly as he jogs over and up. From the top, he can see a middle-aged, dark-haired mage studying a picture on the wall.

“Is that him?” Hawke whispers to Anders, who nods and hurries over.

“Karl!”

“Anders. I know you too well. I knew you would never give up." Karl speaks in a monotone.

“Karl, why are you speaking like…” Anders trails off and his eyes widen in horror as Karl turns around. On his forehead is the sun-shaped brand, the symbol of the Rite Karl had been forced through, the Rite every mage in Thedas feared – The Rite of Tranquility. “No. No!”

“The Templars will teach you to control yourself, Anders.” Karl’s voice gives no inflection. “Templars, the apostate is in here!”

“No! No! No!” Anders’s eyes start to glow a brilliant blue, and his voice takes on a deep, authoritative quality. **_“You will never take another mage as you took him.”_**

Hawke stares, stunned into silence until Fenris shoves him out of the way of a Templar’s arrow. He still moves slowly, gaze never leaving Anders as he feels the Fade tugging at him in a way closer to his dreams than spellcasting. Fenris has to push him several times as the Templars fight back against this… this… Hawke can’t even bring himself to think the word. His shock doesn’t wear off until after the Templars are all lying dead on the ground.

“Anders, what did you do? It’s like… like you’ve brought a piece of the Fade here. I’d forgotten what that felt like.” Karl asks, emotion filling his voice – worry, delight, awe – and that renews the shock Hawke’s feeling.

“I’d like to know the answer to that, myself.” Hawke steps close to Anders. “What was that?”

“I, uh, I have some _unique_ circumstances, yes, but we can talk later.” Anders moves away. “Karl, what _happened?”_

“I was careless and they learned of our meeting.” Karl says quickly. “I’d happily give up my magic, but this? You can’t imagine it, Anders. All the color… the music… everything _gone._ Please, kill me before I forget again. Please!”

“No, Karl, I can’t.” Anders shakes his head, and, whatever Hawke feels about what Anders might have done, he can’t help but put his hand on Anders’s shoulder.

“Anders… I’d rather die than be Tranquil. You can do it, or I can do it, or-”

“Please, now, it’s fading!”

“I’ll do it.” Anders murmurs softly, and steels himself before stepping forward and pulling a dagger from his robes.

“Why do you look at me like that?” Karl asks, monotone again. Anders places his hand on Karl’s shoulder and presses their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry, Karl. I’m so sorry.” He whispers, before stabbing Karl in the stomach, angled up under the ribs to pierce his heart. Anders holds him until he dies, and then he gently moves him down to the floor. Hawke kneels beside him and holds his arms open. Rubbing his eyes, Anders moves forward and presses close. “C-Can we hold off on the explanations, Hawke? Please?”

“Shh, Anders. We can talk tomorrow.” Hawke murmurs as he reaches up to undo Anders’s hair and cards his fingers through the strands. “I’ll take you home when you’re ready.”

Fenris places his hand on Hawke’s shoulder. “Oh, go ahead. I know you want to.”

Hawke smiles at Fenris before tightening his grip on Anders. “You wanna sleep with Fenris and me tonight?”

“Thank you.” Anders mumbles against Hawke’s neck.

\-----

Anders’s face lit up as Karl cast his ice wall higher and higher, until it completely sealed them in his section of the dormitory. The light from outside made it look like it glowed, and Anders studied the delicate design formed into the ice.

“Oh, Karl. It’s beautiful.”

Karl smirked. “It’s not the only beautiful thing here.”

Anders flushed, and Karl pushed him back against the wall before kissing him. Anders’s fingers tangled into the front of Karl’s robes, and he melted into the embrace. Fortunately, the ice wall did not.

\-----

Hawke tugs the blanket up higher on both sleeping men using him for their pillow, letting out a soft sigh as he looks down at them. “Maker, could you go fuck yourself for putting them through what you have?”

“Well, that’s an interesting prayer.” Carver says, head hanging off his bunk to stare down at them.

“Yes, well…” Hawke sighs. Carver moves back on his bunk and lays on his back.

“Look, about earlier… I was out of line.”

“Yes, you were.”

“I just… you know…”

“Yeah, I know.” Hawke smiles up at the board above him. “Go to sleep, Carver.”

“Night, Brother.”

\-----

Hawke leaves Fenris and Anders sleeping early next morning when he heads out to the Hanged Man for a stiff drink and a talk with Varric. He pauses, though, outside the bar to rub his eyes and groan before heading inside. Varric laughs at him from his table in front of the fireplace.

“People usually get hung-over _after_ they’ve been drinking, not before.”

“Is that true, though? You drink, get drunk, get hung over, drink to make it go away, and get drunk again.” Hawke slumps down in the seat across from him. “Does this place have anything for breakfast? I should take some to… well, after I do get that drink.”

Varric leans back in his seat. “So, how’s Blondie?”

“Miserable.”

“And the elf?”

“Annoyed.”

“And you?”

“Exhausted.”

“And it’s not even noon, yet.”

“Did you find any work?”

“After, what, six hours of being away from your lovely face? Nah, not yet.” Varric pulls his crossbow onto his lap and starts to polish her. “But I’ve got feelers out. We’ll find something.”

“Maybe Aveline has some bounties out.” Hawke mumbles before smirking at Varric. “Fancy a trip to the barracks?”

“Why would either of us go there?”

“I have a friend in the guard.”

Varric’s brows raise in something between confusion and amazement. “A refugee with connections. Nice.”

“You’re not the only one that can make friends anywhere, serrah.” Hawke winks and heads to the bar to get his drink and an order of biscuits and gravy that tastes suspiciously like day-old stew.

\-----

Fenris scowls at the mage _still_ in his bed. "Where's Hawke?"

"I don't know." Anders frowns up at him. Fenris rolls his eyes and storms out of the bedroom, through the small house, and outside to scan the street.

"Fenris, relax. Brother's fine." Carver calls from just inside. "He left for a walk around sunrise, that’s all."

Fenris slumps back against the wall. "But he never leaves without..."

He sighs and shifts on his feet a moment. "Watch Anders. Do not let him leave."

Fenris sets off in the direction of the Hanged Man. Carver rolls his eyes and starts fixing breakfast for his mother and their guest.

\-----

“So, Jeven’s planning on sending that Donnic guy to his death…” Varric tsks at Hawke as they wander back in the direction of Lowtown. “And _you_ risk a scolding from the elf and Blondie for running off and fighting bandits without them.”

“Everyone’s playing fast and loose with the rules, I suppose.” Hawke stretches out his arms and cups his hands behind his head. “But we still haven’t made any coin _and_ our night’s booked. Maybe I should take Athenril up on her offer of hooking me up with a few of the old jobs.”

“Nah, we can do this without you running back to your old boss for scraps.”

“Yeah, I hope you’re right, Varric, or we’ll all be missing out.” Hawke laughs.

“Got you hooked back up with Blondie, didn’t I?” Varric smirks up at him. “Have a little faith.”

\-----

Anders sits on Hawke’s and Fenris’s bed a while before he decides to get dressed, standing up in his smalls when Carver enters with a mug of coffee.

“Fenris said you need to stay put, and with that glowing thing, I’d do what he said.” Carver sets the mug on the table next to the bed. “Here, and I’ve got breakfast almost ready, if you’re hungry.”

Anders nods, grabbing his robes from under the table. “Thank you.”

“Yes, well… I was sort of a… you know…”

“Yeah… you were. It’s all right.” Anders says, shifting a moment before starting to get dressed. Carver coughs and backs away.

“Right. So I’ll… breakfast.”

“I’ll be here.”

\-----

Fenris’s nose scrunches up at the smell of distant piss and stale vomit when he enters the Hanged Man, his eyes already scanning for any sign of Hawke. A commotion at the bar attracts his attention.

“Well, Lucky, since the information you gave me was worth nothing,” the Rivaini woman a bunch of guys are crowded around says and takes a drink before continuing, “ _that’s_ what I’ll pay you.”

‘Lucky’ slams his hand down on the Rivaini’s drink. “Me and my boys will get our money’s worth, _bitch.”_

The woman gives a soft chuckle and leans close, grasping Lucky’s arm. “Oh, you poor, _sweet thing._ ”

She yanks forward on his arm and slams his head against the bar, once and then twice and then a third time. Fenris watches, transfixed, as this woman takes down Lucky’s men, and when Lucky tries for her again, her dagger is at his throat before he can do anything.

“Tell me, Lucky. Is this worth dying for?” Her voice sends shivers all the way down Fenris’s spine, and as Lucky bolts out of the tavern, Fenris walks up to her.

“You’re very skilled.”

\-----

Hawke opens the door to Gamlen’s, Varric still in tow. “Honey, I’m home~!”

“He left.” Anders says, dipping a bit of crust in broth. Hawke frowns.

“Where to?”

“He ran off looking for you.” Carver shrugs. “Breakfast?”

“No, I ate earlier. When did he leave?” Hawke bites his lip and shifts on his feet. Anders chuckles at him.

“Honeymoon stage still not over?”

“…Shut up. I still have words for you.” Hawke crosses the room and sits down next to Anders, who tenses and runs his hand through his still loose hair. “For starters, what was with the glowing?”

Anders stares at his food. “When I was with the Wardens, I made a friend. A spirit of Justice. Shortly before I left, I let him… in. I thought it would be okay – he was trapped outside the Fade and it seemed better than him finding a new corpse like some _demon_ – but…”

“It didn’t turn out how you thought.”

“My anger warped him. I can’t undo it, but whenever I see a Templar now, I… I _can_ control it, but last night…” Anders cuts off and slumps forward. “Last night, I just… couldn’t.”

“Few would.” Hawke rubs his back. “Are you all right now, though?”

Anders leans against Hawke. “I will be.”

\-----

Fenris learns several things about the Rivaini woman as they talk. First, her name is Isabela and she used to be captain of a ship called Siren’s Call. Second, she had an affair with the Hero of Ferelden. Third, she liked the swill this place served, which gives Fenris no small amount of respect for her.

“So, what was it you were having them look for?” Fenris asks. “Lucky and his crew.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter now, sweet thing.” Isabela smiles and signals the barkeep for a refill of their drinks. “But, you might be just what I’m looking for to solve a little problem I have, if you don’t mind.”

Fenris quirks a brow. “Oh? And what might that be?”

“Someone from my past has been pestering me, so I’ve arranged for a duel.” Isabela says, a hint of awkwardness in her voice that made Fenris certain it was more than just pestering. “I don’t trust him to play fair, so I need someone to watch my back. You seem like someone that could handle that. What do you say?”

“When?”

“Tonight, in Hightown.”

Fenris thinks on that a moment before he nods. “Very well. I… need to go find my partner, but we’ll meet you there just after dusk.”

Isabela smirks at him. “Is your partner hot?”

“If you’re into beards, I suppose.”


	6. Act 1 (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, here were are at part 6.

“So, how exactly did you escape, Hawke?” Anders asks, leaning against Hawke. The two of them, Carver, and Varric had moved back to the bedroom.

“You know, we can go to the Hanged Man. Better drinks than here.” Varric takes a drink of water – water! – from the mug Hawke gave him when they moved.

“We have no drinks here.” Carver frowns.

“Exactly. If we’re hearing a thrilling tale of escape, we must have drinks. It helps establish the mood. Now, if it’s got tragedy, which I highly suspect from our meeting with Miss Guardswoman this morning, we definitely need suitable background weeping from the guy that sits at the table right next to the door once you get anything spiked with Hirol’s Lava Burst in him,”

Hawke laughs. “You’d drug a man for atmosphere?”

“Of course. Atmosphere is important.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” Anders shakes his head, and Hawke and Varric dissolve into snickers. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Right. Well, you three head over and I’ll find Fenris.” Hawke stands up and stretches before gesturing out the door.

\-----

Two hours after making plans with Isabela, Fenris wanders the docks he knew were taking workers, looking for. He hopes he’s being silly looking here – the stench of fish was strong and would cling to anyone here longer than strictly necessary. The thought of Hawke smelling that way makes him cringe, but he isn’t sure where Hawke would go to seek coin, if that’s even what he was doing.

“Fenris? Feeeenris? Maker, where did he run off to? Not at the Hanged Man, not at home… tried the rat stand just outside Darktown he likes… Where is he?”

Fenris glances around the corner and grins at the sight of Hawke scratching the back of his head. “I’m here, Hawke.”

Hawke’s face lights up when he sees Fenris hurrying toward him, and he takes his elf’s hand, threading their fingers. “Where did you go? I was worried.”

“You left without…” Fenris looks off at some cargo crates. “It’s foolish, but you left without kissing me good morning. I felt… off.”

“You looked too comfortable, so I didn’t want to disturb you.” Hawke squeezes his hand and leans down to press his lips to Fenris’s nose. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was leaving.”

“Good.” Fenris pushes Hawke down an alleyway and against the nearest wall. Hawke wraps his arms around Fenris’s waist as he stands up on his tiptoes to give Hawke a proper kiss. Hawke kisses back until something licks his leg and he jumps.

“Wha-?” Hawke looks down and falls in love instantly. “Fenris… Fenris, can I keep him? Please?”

He lets go of Fenris to kneel down and wrap his arms around a mangy, clearly underfed, stray Mabari pup that yips and licks his cheek as he picks it up. “Look at him! He needs love.”

Fenris can’t help the fond smile forming on his face. “You’re the one that will have to explain this to your mother and Gamlen.”

“Obviously! So can I keep him?”

“I don’t own you. Do as you wish.”

“I’m going to name him Fenrir after you.”

“No.”

“Spoilsport.”

\-----

Hawke carries his puppy in one arm and has the other wrapped around Fenris’s shoulders as they head into the Hanged Man and take their places at Varric’s table. Carver quirks a brow at Hawke.

“What is that?”

“This is Dragon. He’s my second son.” Hawke nuzzles the dog’s unwashed fur. “Say hi to Uncle Carver, Dragon.”

Dragon barks happily and wriggles in Hawke’s arm.

“Second son? Who’s the first?”

“Anders, obviously.” Fenris says as he pets the dog.

Anders rolls his eyes and sips his drink. “Oh, ha ha. I’m not a child, Fenris.”

“Don’t sass your father. Drink your beer.” Hawke imitates Leandra as best he can, and Fenris scowls.

“He’s your child, not mine.”

Hawke shakes his head in faux disbelief and squeezes Dragon closer to his chest. “But, I can’t raise our children on my own, Fenris.”

“That’s why you have me, the favorite uncle.” Varric smirks making Carver rolls his eyes. Varric gestures at the seats opposite him. “Now tell me the story we all came to hear.”

“Right.” Hawke plops down, settling next to Carver and shoving Dragon in his face. “Look at your nephew. He’s the most adorable baby boy I’ve ever held.”

“Ha ha, ass.” Carver scowls, but takes Dragon from Hawke anyway. “Where’d he come from?”

“Well, when two people love each other very much…”

“The alley. He decided he loved him and now Hawke belongs to him.” Fenris cuts off the bit as he drops down next to Hawke’s other side.

“Who would abandon this guy in the alley?” Carver frowns and scratches behind Dragon’s ears. Varric waves Norah over and Hawke orders the stew for Dragon. After the dog is happily munching away at his first proper meal, Hawke leans back and gets serious.

“We were at Ostagar. I was one of the mages chosen to aide King Cailan and the Wardens and Fenris was one of our Templar chaperones. Carver here had signed up to join the King’s Army because Mother, he, and Bethany weren’t doing well financially after Father died. When Fenris saw Loghain leave and Cailan die, the three of us ran back to Lothering for Mother and Bethany.” Hawke runs his hand through his hair, and he sighed. “We tried to run, but the Darkspawn overwhelmed everything in their path. That’s where we met Aveline.”

“The redheaded guard lady?” Varric leans forward and takes a drink. Anders quirks a brow.

“Who?”

“You’ll meet her tonight. We’re going to help her with a shady patrol.” Hawke pauses a second before shrugging. “You know, if you aren’t busy.”

“No, I… After you helped with Karl, I can at least help a friend of yours.” Anders flushes into his drink. Fenris furrows his brows.

“Actually, I was hoping you’d help me with something tonight, Hawke. I met a woman earlier…”

“What time do you need me, Ser Lovely?”

“Just after sunset.”

“I can do both. Donnic’s patrol isn’t until three hours past.” Hawke strokes his beard, trying to look alluring. “Which, of course, I was going to ask you to help me with.”

Fenris leans against Hawke and nods. “Of course.”

“Anyway, Aveline was defending her husband Wesley, who was a Templar Fenris knew from Kinloch, so we struck up a temporary truce that lasted until… well, Darkspawn killed both Wesley and my sister. The rest of us were saved by this beautiful old woman who can turn into a dragon.” Hawke presses a kiss into Fenris’s hair. Anders freezes.

“Old lady who can turn into a dragon? Was her name… Flemeth, by any chance?”

“Err… yes?”

\-----

“Tell me a bedtime story, Commander.” Anders looked up at Tabris from where he had his head resting on the elf’s chest.

“Mmm… there’s the story of the time my cousin Shianni made me play dress up and my other cousin Soris thought I was a new girl in the Alienage and hit on me.”

Anders giggled and shook his head. “Come on.”

“Oooor the time my husband’s ex-boss made me commit assassinations for him to cancel all House of Crows contracts on my life.”

“But, we were attacked by Crows last week.” Anders frowned. "Why would he go back on his word?"

Tabris laughed. “Because I killed him.”

“What? Why?”

“He insulted Zevran, which offended me on two levels.” Tabris shrugged. “First, because he insult Zevran, and second because he insulted my lover while trying to convince me to do stuff for him. And he knew Zevran was alive and could have changed his mind later and ratted him out and then… Ah, but I know that wasn’t a _good_ thing to just do, but I was also angry at other people that I couldn’t do anything about.”

“Oh.”

“Ah, I do know some good bedtime stories, though. Mmm… I was rescued by a lady that can turn into a dragon. Al and I were overwhelmed in the tower at Ostagar, and Flemeth swooped in and scooped us up and carried us into the Korcari Wilds. She took us to her hut, where her _beautiful_ daughter, Morrigan, helped her tend to our wounds. Then she sent us on our merry way with Morrigan, and Morrigan and I found that lady’s grimoires.”

“Beautiful daughter sent on with someone like _you?”_ Anders chuckled and trailed his hand down Tabris’s chest, lower and lower. Tabris licked his lips.

“Yes. And it wasn’t like that. Not with her. She’s amazing. Selfish, manipulative, terrifying, intelligent, _wonderful_ , but it wasn’t like that.”

“Suuuuure.”

“I killed her mother for her. Slayed that dragon I owed my life to.”

“You are really terrible at convincing me you didn’t love her.”

“I do love her. Just… not that ‘I want to follow you all over Thedas and slay your foes but also let you fight your battles when you want to do that yourself and care for you when you’re sick and take happiness in your happiness and pleasure in your pleasure’ way I do Zevran.” Tabris smiled to himself, and Anders smiled back. “I just enjoyed seeing her not pissed off once and a while, is all. And she ended up saving my life at a much more appreciated time. At Ostagar, I thought my life was over anyway. When we faced the Archdemon, my life had just started getting good. So, now, I don’t feel too bad for having killed Flemeth for Morrigan.”

\-----

“I hate to tell you, but Flemeth was killed.” Anders bites his lip.

"What?" Hawke's mouth falls open in a little o.

"What could do that?" Fenris tilts his head and furrows his brows. “She was able to take out an entire army of darkspawn. Was it a mage? A Templar?”

“Um… An underfed, barely-trained, teenage elf in ill-fitting armor.”

“What?”

“The Commander.”

Hawke crosses his arms and pouts. “Your new friend really sucks, you know that? Flemeth was an amazing woman who saved my life, and he killed her, and she could turn into a _dragon_.”

Dragon yips and licks Hawke’s arm. Hawke scratches behind his ears, “And I didn’t even do what she asked of me.”

He pulls out the small amulet and stares at it. Fenris pats his shoulder before standing up. “Come on. We’ll deal with it now.”

Hawke hugs him around the waist and nuzzles into his stomach. “Late is better than never…”

“Right, well, I’m going to go see if there’s any work around town.” Carver stands, setting Dragon on the floor. “I’ll see you tonight, Brother, Fenris.”

He heads out, and Varric shrugs.

“Yeah, I’m going to-”

“No, come with me.” Hawke whines and reaches across the table at him. “Please?”

“Fine, but if Junior hits 50 sovereigns before you do, I’m making him our partner.”

“Deal.” Hawke grins and finally stands up. “To Sundermount!”

Anders fidgets. “Actually… I have to get back to my clinic.”

“Aw. Well, all right.” Hawke picks up Dragon. “Maybe I’ll stop by before we help Fenris’s lady friend and Aveline. Bring you dinner.”

“Thank you, Hawke.”

\-----

“Ugh. For future reference, nature and I do not mix.” Varric wipes his boot off in the grass with a scowl. “What shits that size?”

“Probably a bear.” Fenris says, eying the pile. Hawke laughs.

“I think the Dalish are this way.”

“There are about three things by Sundermount. How did we get lost?” Varric reaches back and pets Bianca. “I don’t want Bianca to get any mosquitos on her.”

“I think you’re more likely to get them on you.” Hawke peeks around the bend. “There it is. I think. There are elves over there, anyway.”

Fenris puts his hands on Hawke’s shoulders and hoists himself up to look over him. “That’s definitely a Dalish camp. I see aravels… but where are the halla?”

“What’s a halla?” Hawke asks, tucking his hands under Fenris to help him stay steady.

“It’s sort of like a deer with white fur. I saw a few on my way to the tower.”

“Neat.” Hawke grins up at Fenris before turning when he hears footsteps approaching from behind. “Oh, clinic boring already?”

Anders flushes. “I ran out of elfroot.”

“Of course.” Fenris slides off Hawke. “The Dalish should know where to find more, obviously.”

“I think there’s a patch up the mountain a ways.” Anders hurries past the group. “Just forget I’m even here.”

Hawke shakes his head with a fond smiles and runs up behind him, Dragon barking at his heals.

\-----

Merrill had been resting when Mahariel and Tamlen had gone hunting. A nap had been more important to her than helping her friends, her only friends, provide for their clan. She’d brushed them off when they’d asked her to come, and they never came back.

The mirror was her only chance to find out what happened to them, and, even if it didn’t, it would return a small piece of the history of their people. She had to know.

“Keeper, if you would just listen–”

“I have heard enough, Merrill. This mirror has cost us far too much already.” Keeper Merethari sighed at the face her First made. “Some things should stay in the past, da’len.”

“Tamlen and Mahariel wouldn’t see it that way.”

“And see what happened to them?”

Merrill scowled and gathered up her things. “I will fix it, with or without your help.”

\-----

“This amulet must be taken to an altar at the top of the mountain and given a Rite for the Departed. Then return the amulet to me, and your debt shall be repaid.” Marethari tells Hawke. Hawke nods at the Keeper.

“Will you teach me this Rite?”

“No. I will send my First with you. She will see that the ritual is complete.” Marethari sighs and gives a sad shake of her head. “And when this is done, I must ask you take her to Kirkwall when you leave.”

Hawke quirks a brow. “That… seems a little odd.”

“It is her wish, and I must grant it.” Marethari looks down a moment before sighing again. “You will find Merrill up the path. Dareth shiral.”

Hawke and Fenris exchange a look before Hawke leads the way to the mountain path. Anders and Varric follow close behind them. It isn’t very far away at all that they find a young elven girl sitting against a steep bank just up the hill. Hawke frowns at the hissing sound of the Fade and its spirits coming from her direction, but it stops the second she turns around and smiles at him.

“Oh! I didn’t hear you. I’m sorry.” She stands up, and Hawke can’t help but smile back. Her eyes are wide in wonder, and he’s reminded, with a sharp pang, of Bethany. “I’m Merrill.”

Hawke nods at her, and Merrill flushes, continuing to stammer, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t ask your name! Unless… it’s not rude to ask a human their name, is it?”

“No, no, it’s completely polite.” Hawke insists, reaching out a hand. “I’m Hawke, and the grumpy people behind me are Fenris, Anders, and Varric.”

“Thank you. I’m just not used to dealing with your kind.” Merrill relaxes and gently pats Hawke’s hand. “The Keeper said you were from Ferelden. I spent most of my life there. Have you been in the Free Marches long? Do you like it here?”

“It’s alright. Not brown enough for me.”


End file.
